


Attention To Detail

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Sex, Falling In Love, Kid Fic, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn Watching, Slow Burn, Spanking, Sugar Daddy, Trans Dave Strider, Trans Roxy Lalonde, camboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: The Striders are making do as best they can. They deserve a lot better, in Mr Egbert's eyes. Too bad Dirk won't accept charity. He might be open to atradethough.





	1. Backstory

**Author's Note:**

> Smooshing together Bro and Dirk because I can. He's _such_ a hero in this, so if you're uncomfy with Bro, probs check out now. Bit of homophobic/transphobic backstory but it's very much not the focus.

When Dirk saw his little sister sitting on the tiny wall that separated the garden bed from the grass outside his dorm building, he actually thought he might be hallucinating. He’d been up all night working on the presentation that presumably he had just performed (not that he could remember it) and his sleep schedule already left a lot to be desired. He figured he was probably up to the hallucinating part of being sleep deprived. It was a position he’d been in before.

But Jess was looking extremely solid.

‘Hey, dude,’ Dirk said uncertainly. ‘What are you doing here?’

Jess shrugged.

‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’

Dirk grimaced with guilt. He hadn’t meant to cut out his sister along with his parents. He had no idea what to do about that. Especially if Jess hadn’t got permission to come see him first, which was more than likely. He couldn’t imagine that she’d be allowed to. He couldn’t imagine that their parents had given her permission to chop all her hair off either.

He had no idea how yet, but this was absolutely going to bite him in the dick.

‘You wanna come inside?’

Jess nodded.

Dirk lead the way through the halls. They got a couple of curious looks, but no one bothered them. It wasn’t like they couldn’t have visitors, even if Dirk had never taken advantage of that fact. He preferred to be taken home rather than show lovers his room. The dorm was always messy and always loud. Besides Dirk liked older guys with their own places and their own showers.

Roxy was sleeping in Dirk’s bed when he opened the door. He sighed and gestured at his desk chair to Jess, choosing to sit on top of Roxy’s feet.

Jess took off her sunglasses and raised her eyebrows at Roxy.

‘Either you’ve changed a helluva lot since you left home or that’s the prettiest dude I’ve ever seen in my life,’ she said quietly.

‘Right on both counts, gorgeous,’ Roxy said, her eyes still closed.

‘You have two girlfriends and your own god damn room, Rox, why are you here?’

Roxy finally gave up on pretending to be asleep and sat up straight.

‘You didn’t come home last night and you haven’t been answering my messages. How else was I supposed to get the goss?’

Dirk sighed and threw his own shades at the desk.

‘I was at the library. Jess, this is my dumb friend Roxy, Roxy, this is my sister, Jess.’

‘Uh, actually, brother, Dave.’

Dirk turned around and looked at his … brother. Dirk's eyebrows were up entirely without his permission and he shoved them back into a neutral position.

‘Sorry, bro,’ he said.

Jesus Christ but that must have been a hard discovery to make in that house. Dirk had been forced to stay in the closet until he left (two fingers held up and shouting “I’m fucking gay!” loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear and judge). He couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be for … Dave. At least his parents had heard of gay people before.

‘Did you cut your hair yourself, Dave?’ Roxy asked kindly.

Dave nodded, dropping his eyes to the ground.

‘Well, honey, you’ve done an okay job, considering it looks like you used paper scissors or somethin’ but we can do better than that. My gee eff is a boss bitch when it comes to hair, she does mine, ya know.’

Roxy shook her head, showing off her curls, which were still pretty gorgeous despite the fact that they’d gone squashed and frizzy from lying on them. Dirk liked to stare at the way they went from blonde at the top to pink at the tips, like a particularly peppy sunset. Feferi was trying to convince him to dye his hair too, but he felt like any other colour would look strange with his too pale skin.

Dave shrugged.

‘Go grab Feferi,’ Dirk said.

Roxy gave Dirk a kiss on the head and waggled her fingers at Dave before leaving. Dirk waited until the door was closed before pulling Dave up to his feet and giving him a hug.

‘I’m giving you ten seconds of unironic support here, bro, and then it’s all jokes and bullshit again. Proud of you, man.’

Dave didn’t answer for a moment, but held onto Dirk tightly enough that he assumed that he was doing okay.

‘I don’t wanna go back,’ he whispered.

Shit.

No, he couldn’t make his brother do that.

But it wasn’t like any of their other relatives would be better …

Oh god, Dirk was technically an adult, wasn’t he?

Oh fuck.

Was he really the best person for the job?

‘Yeah, stay with me, we’ll figure it out.’

If Dirk was being honest with himself, he had never really given their parents the opportunity to react well to his coming out. He heard what they thought of other gay people and knew how they treated him whenever he disappointed them and he was pretty fucking sure that he wouldn’t be accepted.

But Dave was 11. Maybe, given a bit of time and space, maybe they might surprise him. Not the issue for the moment. The issue for the moment was dealing with the fact that there was really not room for a second bed in Dirk’s dorm or for a second person, no matter how skinny, in Dirk’s bed unless they wanted to be spooning which … no. Dirk was barely comfortable with cuddling people he slept with, he was itching to be done with this supportive hug, he wasn’t sharing a single bed.

He loosened his arms around Dave to test whether the hug was done but he kept clinging to him so he didn’t let go. Kid didn’t get hugged enough by their parents, that was for fucking sure. Dirk was still getting used to the fact that Roxy and the rest of his new friends didn’t treat physical contact as some kind of huge taboo.

Fuck. He couldn’t let his brother go back to that.

‘Okay, let me go, dude, I gotta scope out who has a sleeping bag. Did you bring anything?’

Dave finally let go of Dirk and turned away quickly, rubbing at his face. Dirk decided that he was quite interested in looking at a mysterious mark on his wall.

‘Yeah, um, I brought a backpack.’

Dirk turned back and Dave offered him his backpack. Dirk opened it carefully, wanting to be respectful of whatever was in there. He remembered the times when he had tried to run away as a kid. He never had the guts. He didn't have a big brother to run to, though.

Dave had done alright. There was a laptop, various cables, two books, a bunch of underwear, another pair of jeans and two shirts. No pajamas, but he could borrow Dirk’s. He’d even remembered a toothbrush. And a giant packet of choc-chip cookies. You know, the essentials.

‘I’m actually kinda impressed,’ Dirk said. ‘Did you leave a note or anything?’

Dave looked at Dirk like he was crazy.

‘I texted Mom.’

Right. Because of course Dave had his own phone. Who left notes these days? It really had been a while since Dirk had done the run away routine.

‘What did you say?’

Dave pulled his phone out of his jeans and handed it over.

gone to be a tranny fag with bro. hugs and kisses. dave.

Dirk laughed in shock. Oh god, he couldn't let him get away with saying that.

‘Shit, bro, you just burnt the fuck out of that bridge, didn’t you?’

‘Their words, so pretty sure it was them that burnt the bridge,’ Dave said. ‘And I know it’s no “I’m fucking gay” but I think I got the point across.’

‘You might be my hero,’ Dirk said, handing the phone back. 'Please don't say those words around Rox. Or anyone.'

Dave nodded, but he looked kinda proud of himself. Whoops.

*

It took two months before Dirk got the first call from social services. The school had given up on calling their parents and called the services, then it took a while for the government idiots to actually visit the assholes and then it had taken them even longer to figure out what Dave had meant in his agonisingly simple text message and seek Dirk out.

‘Yo,’ Dirk said, by way of answering the phone.

‘Good morning, this is Joan from the state social services, am I speaking with Dirk Walker?’

‘Yes,’ Dirk replied, his voice uncertain. He set his coffee down and motioned at Roxy to keep an eye on Dave while he walked away for privacy. She'd loved the opportunity to practice her maternal instinct on someone who could half-appreciate it. 

‘Do you have a moment to talk about your sister, Jessica?’

Dirk fought back the impulse to tell the woman that he didn’t have a sister.

‘Yes,’ he said instead.

‘Our records say that she hasn’t been to school in a month and a half, since the new term started, and we’ve found evidence that suggests that she might be with you.’

‘You talking about the text?’ Dirk asked.

‘Yes, actually.’

‘Right, so are you an idiot or a dick? Because my brother’s name is Dave and if you’ve seen the text you should have been able to figure out the exact reason he left our transphobic assholes of parents.’

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. Dirk made an effort to stop pacing and gritting his teeth, but found he wasn’t quite able to. His body felt hot with anger.

‘I would ask you to refrain from swearing, Mr Walker,’ Joan said.

Dirk forced himself to take a deep breath.

‘Sorry, you’re right, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at our parents and I’m mad at our government’s tendency to prioritise a number of things before the welfare of my brother, but I’m not mad at you personally. Dave is with me.’

‘Your …’ Dirk practically heard her struggling over using Dave’s real name or the one she had printed on her notes. He almost wanted her to choose wrong, if only to feel justified in cussing her out and hanging up on her. But he might need to work with this government asshole, so he forced himself to wish for kindness instead.

‘We generally prefer to have children settled with their parents,’ Joan said. ‘Dave is quite young. And he hasn’t been attending school.’

Joan was quiet again. Dirk fought against feelings of defensiveness and shame. He wasn’t sure which was winning.

‘I’m 19,’ Dirk said quietly. ‘I’m a legal adult, I can do this.’

For a moment, he hadn’t been sure if he was asking for understanding based on his young age or confidence based on his maturity. But he was not the kind of person to ask for a concession.

‘Okay,’ Joan said. ‘We need to set up a meeting to make sure that you are a viable guardian and discuss the permanence. Dave needs to start attending school again. You need to demonstrate willingness and ability to care for him. Are you employed?’

‘I’m a student.’

‘I would say you have some difficult choices ahead, Mr Walker.’

Dirk didn’t know what to say to that. There was the sound of typing on the other end of the phone.

‘I can provide a number of dates, depending on suitability, for an interview. I would advise against putting this off, even if doing so might place you in a better position, for which there would be no consequences to but even so I must advise against. Do you understand?’

Dirk frowned slightly. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Was this woman on his side?

‘Okay,’ he said.

‘Are you available next Monday?’

‘No,’ Dirk said, testing her slightly.

‘Very good, Mr Walker,’ she said, only the slightest inflection leading him to believe that he was on the right track. ‘Oh, I’m afraid the next available time for someone in your area is three weeks from now, on the 17th.’

‘I won’t be free,’ Dirk said.

‘The 30th?’

Dirk hesitated. He couldn’t put this off forever.

‘I should be able to make it work,’ he said.

‘Excellent. Perhaps now is not a good time to get a permanent address from you.’

‘No, you’re right, we’re finalising moving details at the moment,’ Dirk said. He had no idea where that had come from, but he was pretty sure he was right to say that.

‘Excellent. Someone will contact you shortly, hopefully me, to set a time and place.'

*

ectoBiologist  [EB] has begun pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 9:04am!

EB: are you ready?  
TG: hey john how are you did you sleep well  
TG: im good no need to fuss or anything though i of course appreciate your interest and manners  
EB: oh my god, shut up!  
EB: can we video chat now or what?  
TG: yeah gimme five more minutes  
TG: i know you really want to see my beautiful face but if you want both striders that aint happening yet  
EB: daaaaaaaaaaaave.  
EB: you knew we were doing this!  
TG: time difference bro you gotta allow for the time difference  
TG: cant help that we arent as fresh as you  
EB: dave, you’re two hours IN FRONT of me. you literally have no excuse.  
TG: strider time difference my dude  
EB: dad is sitting next to me with the wikihow article on how to safely meet people on the internet and he says you gotta video chat with me!  
TG: oh hey mr e  
TG: i obviously very much respect the care youre taking with this its hella responsible  
TG: i mean i can turn on the video now its just that my bro slash guardian is only halfway through his coffee  
TG: which in bro terms means hes only halfway through the astonishing process of becoming a human again  
EB: yes!!!!!  
EB: video time!!!

ectoBioligist [EB] has requested video chat with turntechGodhead [TG] at 9:12am!

[accept] / [decline]

The camera showed Dave sitting at the desk looking identical to every selfie he’d ever sent John. Same hair, same shades, even the same shirt as most of them. He gave a little wave.

‘Yo,’ he said.

John grinned and waved back.

‘Hey!’ He ducked slightly to the side and his dad took a seat next to him. They were using the piano stool and Mr Egbert’s laptop so that they could both see the screen.

‘Good morning,’ Mr Egbert said.

‘Where’s your bro?’ John asked.

Dave twisted his mouth to one side in frustration before grabbing his monitor and shoving it to the side. Slumped in a vaguely upright position on Dave’s bed and cradling a coffee cup in his hands was Bro. The steam from the coffee was fogging up his ironically douchey anime shades, but his eyes were closed so he hadn’t noticed.

‘Bro,’ Dave said.

‘Mmm,’ Bro said. ‘’M awake. ‘M listenin’.’

Dave gave the camera an exasperated look.

‘He works night shift,’ he said by way of explanation.

‘Would an evening call have been more convenient?’ Mr Egbert said.

‘Ah, probably not,’ Dave said. ‘Sundays and Mondays are his days off, he basically sleeps through them, but work days are worse.’

Dave kicked at Bro and Bro kicked back automatically without moving the upper half of his body at all.

‘You gotta actually drink that for it to work,’ Dave said.

Bro sipped at his coffee and gave an appreciative groan. He fumbled with his pockets for a bit before apparently giving up. Dave threw a packet of cigarettes and a lighter at him.

‘Open your eyes before you play with fire,’ Dave said.

He turned and grinned conspiratorially at the Egberts. Mr Egbert eyed the pipe on his desk and restrained himself from commenting. He really wasn’t in the position.

‘So, does WikiHow say we should talk about anything in particular, Mr E?’ Dave asked.

Mr Egbert smiled reassuringly.

‘Just talk how you usually would,’ he said.

John made a face at Dave, opening his eyes wide, to convey they absolutely should not talk how they usually did in front of his dad. Dave grinned at him.

Behind him, Bro finally managed to get his cigarette alight and was alternating sipping coffee and sucking in smoke. He drained the coffee just before he needed to tap the ash off his cigarette, which was lucky because he ended up doing so into the coffee cup.

‘Time is it?’ he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

‘Nearly 11:30,’ Dave said.

‘I hate you so much,’ he moaned. ‘Alright, what ‘m I doin’?’

‘You’re being a reassuring guardian so John’s dad doesn’t think I’m gonna murder his son.’

Bro looked at Dave blankly. This made no more sense to him in the moment than it had during their three previous conversations about it. Not only was he a distinctly non-reassuring type of person, he didn’t look much like a guardian either.

Of course he was Dave’s guardian, whether he looked the part or not, and perhaps the fact that no one would ever hire someone like him (no matter how cheap the rates were) to impersonate a father figure made it more convincing that he was legit. He sat forward a bit, looked into the camera and gave it a little salute.

‘Yo,’ he said, completely oblivious to the fact that he was basically mimicking Dave’s own greeting. ‘Uh, I don’t know what to say, man.’

‘How about I start,’ Mr Egbert said. ‘I’m James, I work at a bank in Seattle. I am fond of baking and a good joke.’ He looked at the camera expectantly. Neither Dave nor Bro moved to respond. Mr Egbert nudged John.

‘What, you want me to introduce myself? What’s the point in that?’

‘The point is that you are doing so off the top of your head and are therefore the same person that Dave has been talking to, not an impostor.’

John rolled his eyes but leaned back to think.

‘I’m John, duh,’ he said. ‘And I like movies, especially disaster movies and ones with really good science bits, like Ghostbusters.’

Bro visibly shuddered. Dave turned around to grin at him.

‘I play the piano and I do coding and I really hate cake, that’s basically me.’

‘My turn?’ Dave asked. John nodded. ‘Okay, I’m Dave, I’m pretty hot sh—stuff. I mix music and collect dead sh—tuff and put them in jars. Oh, I made my closet into a darkroom and I develop my own photos, like …’ Dave stood up and unpegged a picture from the string hanging across his room. ‘Two for one interest combo, it’s a picture of a skull.’

‘Can’ fake that,’ Bro said with a low chuckle. ‘That’s authentic weirdness.’ His eyes were closed again.

‘Are we keeping you awake?’ Mr Egbert asked, his tone polite. The kind of polite that had Bro’s hackles rising just a bit because it sounded like a criticism.

‘A bit,’ he said. ‘I’m Dirk, Dave’s Bro. I’m a ‘prentice mechanic.’

‘Who works nights?’ Mr Egbert asked.

‘Nah, ‘prentices earn next to nothin’ so I work a club too. Bar tend some and DJ. Only Thursday to Saturday though.’

‘Bro’s the one who taught me to mix,’ Dave said, tone carefully casual.

‘He’s gonna take my job from me any day now,’ Bro said, nodding. ‘Fuck, where’d I put my lighter?’

‘Behind your ear,’ Dave said.

Bro found the lighter and lit another cigarette.

‘I gotta go to sleep after this,’ he said. ‘Ask me whatever now if you gotta.’

‘How tall is Dave?’ John asked immediately.

Bro raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘Ah … I dunno. Tall? How tall are you?’

‘5 foot 3,’ Dave said smugly.

‘Nooo!’ John said.

‘That sounds right,’ Bro said. ‘You’re like a foot shorter than me, right?’

‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Mr Egbert interrupted. ‘How old are you?’

‘23,’ Bro said. Something in his posture changed, becoming more defensive.

‘Quite young to have charge over a young man.’

‘Yup. Quite old to be an apprentice, too.’ His words came out a lot clearer as he forced himself more alert. ‘We manage. How old are you?’

‘I’m 42,’ Mr Egbert replied calmly.

Bro stubbed his cigarette in his coffee cup.

‘Anythin’ else?’

‘The boys were wanting to meet up. Given the distance, that could be quite difficult.’

Bro spun Dave’s chair around so he could look at him directly.

‘How d’you 'magine that’s gonna work?’ he asked.

Dave shrugged and avoided Bro’s eyes.

‘Sorry, Mr …’ Bro paused for a moment and then evidently gave up on remembering his name, ‘it’s just we haven’t got room to host anyone here and it’s not like I can take time off to take him to you. Like, I know they’re “best friends for life” or whatever, but there’s only so much I can do.’

‘’S what I said,’ Dave muttered.

Bro grimaced, hearing that. One thing to tell the kid no when he wanted something, another for him to not think the things he wanted were possible in the first place.

‘We can do something, right, Dad?’ John said.

‘Well, it’s certainly something to consider,’ Mr Egbert said. ‘Perhaps a solution will present itself.’

Bro pushed his shades up onto his forehead, knocking his cap backwards and off his head. He scrubbed at his eyes.

‘Yeah, leave it with me,’ he said finally, adjusting his shades again. ‘You want to do more internet safety or whatever, lemme know. I really gotta sleep though.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Mr Egbert said.

‘Yeah, you too, and John. Good to put a face to the name and all that.’

Bro heaved himself off the bed and punched Dave in the shoulder on his way out of the room.

‘I probably shouldn’t have voice stuff going while he’s sleeping,’ Dave said as Bro left.

By the time Bro got out of the shower, Dave was back to using his headphones and typing at his alarmingly fast speed.

‘You cool?’ Bro asked as he passed his room.

‘As a penguin,’ Dave replied, eyes not leaving his screen. ‘Waddling around and shit, finding a real nice rock so I can propose to my monogamous life partner, I’ll guard that egg while she does fishing and shit, I’m chill as fuck.’

Bro leaned in the doorway while he waited for Dave to stop rambling.

‘Wake me when you want dinner,’ he said before leaving for his futon.

*

The first video chat between Dave and John normalised it to the extent that they and the two girls they talked to most adopted it as their most frequent method of communication. Sometimes time differences or being out of the house made pesterchum more convenient, but for the most part they had “face to face” conversations, often for hours at a time while they did other things on the internet as well.

Mr Egbert was both reassured by the visual confirmation of Dave being who he said he was and dismayed at the small details John kept dropping.

Dave seemed to survive off instant noodles, take-away and cereal. He found his own way to and from school and had been doing so since he was 11, even though he had to take two different buses and it took him almost an hour. When he got the flu he stayed home by himself and complained that he didn’t have the energy to get the cup-a-soup that was his brother’s only remedy and didn’t go to the doctor. He broke a window and fixed it with duct tape and when his brother saw, he just congratulated him on doing a good job and left it like that for over a month.

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Mr Egbert that the friendship between Dave and John was not only something incredibly precious to each of them, but that it was also showing signs of developing into something romantic. He was wary of the challenges this would pose given the distance, but was also very charmed by Dave and couldn’t help but ponder the problem of allowing them to meet in person.

John wasn’t quite spoiled. He was certainly not a demanding young man, and never expected to get everything he wanted. Despite the wealth of the family and the privileges that came with that, John was the kind of boy who was happy to receive a relatively cheap poster for his birthday because of the thought that went into it.

Perhaps this was why Mr Egbert couldn’t quite abide the thought that he couldn’t give John the one thing he truly seemed to want; to see Dave.

Mr Egbert was making dinner in the kitchen as John chatted to Dave in the lounge room. He liked that John felt comfortable enough in his home to laugh loudly and chat in his father’s earshot. Mr Egbert remembered calling friends on his parents’ landline and only talking to them for as long as it took to arrange a meeting place because the phone was in the kitchen where his mother could hear every word. He had gotten it down to a science, never exchanging more than 10 words with them.

‘Dad!’ John called suddenly.

Mr Egbert put down the carrot he was peeling and walked to the door.

‘You gotta wish Dave happy birthday!’ he said.

Mr Egbert crouched next to the couch to get in the view of the webcam.

‘Happy birthday,’ he said solemnly. ‘And what a fetching tiara.’

Dave grimaced.

‘Bro superglued it to my forehead while I was sleeping,’ he said. ‘Can’t figure out how to get it off without taking the skin with it.’

Mr Egbert laughed heartily. He wouldn’t ruin the prank by telling Dave how best to dissolve the glue. John grinned at his dad, which meant he hadn't told him either. 

‘What are the plans for today?’ Mr Egbert asked.

‘Bro finishes work in like an hour and then we’re going out for all you can eat Mexican and we’re gonna eat so much spicy shit, my tongues gonna fall out.’

‘That sounds very nice.’

Dave nodded in agreement.

‘December is easily the best month. Birthday dinner and Christmas dinner in one month. And the mechanics closes for Christmas so Bro and I do dumb holiday stuff.’

‘He has time off?’ Mr Egbert asked.

‘Yup.’

‘You should come up for Christmas.’

‘What?’ Dave and John asked at the same time.

‘He said the problem was getting time off. He has time off. We have a spare bedroom and I flatter myself that I make a rather good roast. I can provide tickets, I have a lot of points.’

‘Oh-my-god-yes,’ John said. ‘Will you come? Oh my god, that would be so awesome.’

‘Uhh,’ said Dave. ‘That seems like a lot for you to do for us.’

‘You’ll have to discuss it with your brother, I’m sure. But the cost to me would be insignificant and the reward to you and John more than outweighs it.’

Mr Egbert smiled his most reassuring smile at Dave before excusing himself back to the kitchen. He was pleased to hear John only reiterate that it was a good idea once more before backing off and leaving Dave to think about it.

*

Dave waited until Bro’s mouth was full of burrito before he spoke.

‘So, Mr Egbert invited us to Christmas and said he’d pay for flights.’

A man who hadn’t been in a spit-take war with his younger brother for the past three years might have struggled to continue to eat normally. Bro froze for a second in his chewing, but otherwise managed to get his food down normally.

‘Mr Internet Safety wants to spend over a grand on strangers from the internet,’ Bro said, voice flat with disbelief.

‘He says he has points,’ Dave said, shrugging as if he knew what the hell points were and how that changed anything. He decided not to comment on Bro’s knowing how much the flights would set them back despite him never having flown anywhere before.

‘And then have said internet strangers stay at his house over Christmas, presumably.’

‘I don’t know that we count as strangers anymore.’

Bro shoved another massive bite of burrito in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to speak again. It was pretty obvious that that was why he was doing it. Dave sipped his juice impassively.

‘I’ll get the money,’ Bro said.

Dave raised his eyebrow above his shades but didn’t say anything. 15 was probably too young to be quite so aware of how much they struggled to get by, but he’d been 11 when Bro first had to figure out how to pay bills in the first place. Hard to go back on that when he’d been the one to figure out how to set up paying them online.

‘I’ll figure something out. Staying at their place is already … I’ll figure it out.’

‘So we can go?’

Bro nodded in a carefully calm way. He waited until Dave took another sip of juice.

‘I mean, I’m not gonna be the one to keep you two lovebirds apart.’

Dave calmly swallowed his mouthful and stared blankly at Bro. Weak effort.

‘You know, because you’re really fucking gay for him.’

Dave continued to stare blankly.

‘Which, like, can’t blame you there. Presumably he’s gonna look like his dad when he’s older and I’d climb that man like a tree.’

Dave hadn’t lost the spit take game in almost six months, he wasn’t going to lose it over standard Bro nonsense.

‘What are you gonna get him for Christmas? You nervous?’

It took six more probing questions for Dave to snap and tell Bro to shut up. Mission accomplished, Bro stole a victory quesadilla from Dave’s plate.

‘You know I don’t actually give a shit who you’re into, right?’ Bro said. 'Love and acceptance for days in this fam.'

‘Fuck off,’ Dave said.

Communication achieved, brother styles, they moved on to the more important topic of which one of them could handle the hottest sauce on the cart better.

*

John burst past the kitchen and out the front door at a speed Mr Egbert had not thought possible in such a confined space. He followed at a more moderate pace. He hoped to be able to unburden the boys of their luggage before they were done with getting out of the taxi, but he didn’t feel the need to run.

In the end, his leisurely pace was justified. Not only had the boys not got the bags from the boot, but John was bent half over laughing and Dave was struggling to pull Bro from the car with not a lot of success.

‘Good afternoon,’ Mr Egbert said.

Dave straightened up.

‘Hey, Mr E. Bro’s a bit unconscious.’

Mr Egbert leaned down to see. Yes. Bro was certainly passed out. Dave had managed to get his seatbelt off and his head to slump into the door, but seemed to be struggling to do more than that.

‘How did this come to pass?’ Mr Egbert asked carefully.

‘Dic—Idiot’s scared of flying. Took some sleeping pills. They didn’t even set in when we were taking off, which was fu—um, annoying as anything, sir, because he seriously can’t cope with flying. And of course now he’s asleep. And I managed to wake him up like a tiny bit to get him into the cab but that was kinda alright and now he’s just so asleep.’

Mr Egbert looked at the young man who seemed to be entirely a dead weight.

‘Alright boys, you get the bags. Have you been paid, sir?’

Mr Egbert paid the driver and hefted Bro onto his shoulder while John and Dave got the two squashy gym bags from the boot.

Dave reappraised his idea of Mr Egbert as a dull banker. In his mind, it would be impossible to have this amount of physical strength without some kind of hidden coolness depth as well. 

‘I think I’ll put him on the couch,’ Mr Egbert said mildly as they walked up the path to the door. John held the door open and Dave followed behind to make sure that Bro’s head, dangling in proximity to Mr Egbert’s ass, didn’t smack into the door frame or the walls.

‘He’s gonna be so pissed he missed this,’ Dave said. ‘Bet he doesn’t even believe me when I tell him. You’re not even struggling with him, this is crazy.’

Mr Egbert set Bro carefully on the couch, opting to keep his head on the cushions and letting his long legs fall gracelessly off the edge.

‘Well, it’s not a bed, but I’m not going to risk dropping him down the stairs. John said you’d rather sleep in his room than in the spare room with your brother, is that right?’

‘Uh, sure,’ Dave said. ‘Yeah, I mean, gotta get as much Egbert time in as possible while we’re here, right?’

John grinned and threw his arms around Dave. Dave patted his arms awkwardly, but smiled, so Mr Egbert didn’t feel the need to pull John aside and remind him again that not all people are huggers.

‘Come see my room!’ John said, letting Dave go only long enough to tug at his shirt instead.

The boys ran up the stairs with a cacophony of sound that seemed more suitable to a herd of elephants than a couple of teenagers. Bro did not move. He was evidently very asleep.

Well, Mr Egbert was not the kind of man who would leave a man to wake up alone in a strange house, so, after checking that everything in the kitchen would manage without him, he took up position in his favoured armchair with his novel.

*

The looks on both boys faces when Mr Egbert set down the very simple meal of pasta and garlic bread broke his heart a little bit.

‘Do y’all say grace or anything?’ Dave asked.

‘No, but if you want to say something, you’re welcome to,’ Mr Egbert replied.

‘We’re not religious,’ Bro said quietly.

Mr Egbert started eating and the tension was broken slightly when Dave let out a rather extravagant moan.

‘Reconsidering that not religious thing, Bro,’ Dave said. ‘Are you allowed to worship food? We should totally set up a shrine to this pasta.’

*

The boys left, leaving Bro and Mr Egbert awkwardly alone in the house. Mr Egbert found himself in the position of needing to entertain someone he really didn’t know, who also happened to be in his early 20s, and presumably wasn’t going to be interested in the same activities as a man in his 40s.

‘Do you want to play a game of chess?’ Mr Egbert offered.

‘Sure,’ Bro said. ‘It’s been a while.’

Mr Egbert felt a small twinge of relief that he even knew how to play and was willing to indulge him. While he assumed that at some point during their stay his guests would have to entertain themselves, he couldn’t justify that beginning on the very first day.

Mr Egbert brought out the chess set from his office and set it on the kitchen table. It felt more casual that way, though he couldn’t have said why. He gestured for Bro to sit behind the white pieces and sat down behind the black.

‘John isn’t very interested in playing, so I haven’t played with this set for some time. There’s a board at the office, though, which is nice.’

Bro nodded distractedly and moved a pawn forward.

‘I used to be on the team at high school,’ Bro said.

‘Oh!’

‘Yeah, pretty nerdy. I just had a crush on the teacher who ran it, really.’

Mr Egbert gave a little chuckle. He remembered what that was like. He had almost been excited to be facing someone who would give him a challenge, but he supposed it was enough to have someone who was willing to play at all.

‘Check,’ Bro said.

Mr Egbert looked down at the board. So it was. That would serve him right for not giving it his full attention. He eyed the pattern that Bro had moved in to get a check so early. Ah. Okay. He could get out of this if he played perfectly.

He moved his rook. Bro smiled. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to value a challenging opponent.

'So, you're a banker,' Bro said. It didn't sound natural. Mr Egbert would bet anything that he was trying to divide his focus from the game. Well, that wouldn't do. He must win.

'Yes, though I admit that your DJ career intrigues me. Perhaps I missed my calling.'

'Yeah?' Bro said. 'What kind of music do you like?'

'I'm rather fond of Eddie Morton.'

'Right, Skrillex's brother.'

Mr Egbert raised his head to look Bro directly in the eyes.

'Bangarang,' he said solemnly. 'And check, incidentally.'


	2. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro learns a new skill and Dadbert learns something _interesting_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, kudosing and commenting! I thought this was a self-indulgent rare-pair but I'm so glad it's being enjoyed. :)

Bro was doing okay entertaining himself in the house while the boys were out. He could do a lot with an internet connection. Not as much as he could in an empty house with a good camera set up to earn a few extra dollar dollar bills yo (being casual about it almost makes it less humiliating to be one more queer dude on the internet selling gifs of himself on the edge of orgasm) but enough to keep him occupied. Except that there were so many hours in the day and Bro was used to being half asleep for most of them. He couldn't remember being this well rested ever.

It was actually making him antsy. He needed to be doing something, every second that he was catching up on fucking anime was a second he should be earning money. He had barely scraped enough by to travel to Washington, even with Dadbert chucking in way too much, saying that he had frequent flyer points or something. 

He didn't want Dave to want for shit. Not when they came from a family that thought providing them with designer clothes meant that they didn't need to support who they were as people. He didn't want even a single aspect of Dave's life with him to not hold up to the life he could have had. He knew that was impossible, but he tried. Kid had an iPhone that was so shiny you could barely tell it was second hand. That counted for something.

After a certain amount of time in his room, Bro decided to see if he couldn't offer to chop wood or some shit, anything to feel like less of a freeloader. He made his way downstairs, looking in the lounge and then kitchen to see if Dadbert was around. He eventually found him in his study, polishing golden-brown sheets of something or other. Guy was clean, but Bro had no idea what he was doing. 

'Yo,' Bro said awkwardly. 'I'm feelin' like a bit of a spare part, d'you need any wood chopping or anything?'

'Good afternoon. And no, please just enjoy yourself.'

Dadbert smiled in a polite way before turning back to his desk and the whatever it was on it. Bro looked at the tools around him hoping to get some context. He knew his way around a toolbox, but apart from the hammer/mallet looking thing, the only thing he recognised was a needle and thread.

'Hey, didn't know you sewed.'

Dadbert looked at him more carefully. So far, Bro hadn't quite made as much effort as he had hoped. Perhaps it was about to change. 

'I didn't think it was a mutual interest,' he said. 

'Handy hobby to have,' Bro said. 'Kids grow too fu-reakin' fast to be buyin' new clothes all'a time.'

'Dave rather looks like he's had a growth spurt recently.'

Bro shifted so that instead of standing outside looking in he was leaning on the doorframe on the inside. It was a step closer, at least.

'That obvious?'

'He's about as gangly as a baby deer.'

Bro snorted with amusement. Dave was all limbs. 

'Plus he skates,' Bro said. 'Bad for the knees of his jeans.'

'That's why I started,' Dadbert said. 'My wife used to darn my socks and once she passed ... I can't stand waste, you know?'

Bro found himself wanting to make a remark about the size of the house they had and their obvious comfort. He bit his tongue. For all the money they seemed to have, they didn't act like his parents, spending it on shit they didn't need and hating on people who had less. His father would never have darned his own socks. 

'This needle is actually not for socks, though. I'm making myself a new belt. My nice one is getting rather less nice.'

Both Bro and Mr Egbert looked down at Bro's belt. It was not in fantastic condition.

'I could make you one,' Mr Egbert offered.

Bro hesitated. He did not do charity. But somehow being made something felt less like an imposition, especially from someone like Mr Egbert.

'Could you teach me?' Bro asked instead.

'What excellent timing,' Mr Egbert said. 'I was just about to start mine. You can watch and then have a go yourself.'

There was something about Mr Egbert's presence that was reassuring. He was so calm. Bro stepped further into the room. 

'You're welcome to the piano stool,' Mr Egbert said. 

Bro picked up the stool, fumbling with it when the top of it decided to swing open and catching the sheet music inside before he could make a mess. He took it over to Mr Egbert's desk and sat down. He felt short for the first time in a while. There weren't many people that made Bro feel short. Granted, he didn't exactly make a habit of sitting on piano stools. 

Mr Egbert watched as Bro got himself settled. On a lower level and minus the stiffness that he seemed to have around the boys, he looked younger than usual. 23. That was quite young enough. Too young to be a father figure to a teenager, even though he seemed to be handling it surprisingly well. Mr Egbert still didn't quite have the full story from John, but as a widower himself he felt no need to pry into unusual family circumstances. 

Bro was still so reluctant to accept any kind of help, from Mr Egbert offering to launder his clothes to doing the dishes. He was looking forward to being able to give him something, even if it was just a skill he could look up on the YouTube. 

Mr Egbert made his movements slower and more open so that Bro could see how he measured, which tool is used for cutting, how to press this hot one to the leather so the edges were sealed and to make a straight line with which to guide the holes he would press into it.

Bro tried to focus, he really did, but he was a quick learner and he learnt by doing not by watching. There was a lot of room in his head for ... well, other watching.

He liked the way the tools fit in Mr Egbert's hands. He liked the confidence in which he moved. His button down shirt was folded so neatly, cuffs rolled up without creases to his elbows. His posture was so perfect. He was an unattainable figure, in many ways.

He was exactly what a dad should be, right down to the smell of proper pipe smoke that lingered on him, sweet and sharp in a way that cigarette smoke wasn't. And despite the fact that the perfect wife wasn't going to walk through the door and announce that dinner was ready, catching the way that Bro in all his too-rough, too-young, too-gay glory was staring at the sharpness of Mr Egbert's jaw instead of the belt that's taking shape on the table in front of him, there might as well be. Because the spectre of a perfect wife lingered over them.

Bro didn't measure up and it was especially obvious when Mr Egbert was like this. So perfect and competent and completely beyond what Bro could offer to anyone. 

Although Mr Egbert had been dragging out his movements to make them more accessible, it wasn't long before he finished and handed the belt to Bro to examine. This was more what Bro needed, something to focus on that wasn't Mr Egbert. He could see the stitching up close, could feel the holes and the weight of perfect craftsmanship.

'This one is rather plain. I need it for the office. You could have a pattern on yours, if you liked.'

And that was what Bro needed as well. He couldn't start leatherworking in the kiddie pool. His mind immediately jumped to the most intricate projects he could manage. If he knew how to work leather, he actually might be able to attract some new viewers, he might be able to earn more money. His plans were already hurtling towards a future instead of just learning the basics, but Mr Egbert pulled him back.

'First, though, dinner. I could use a sous chef, if you're still offering help.'

Bro answered without thinking, 'I'm not opposed to being under a chef.'

It was his work brain, and it had no business being on at the Egbert's house. He closed his eyes behind his shades, already reaching for desperate excuses about how he didn't mean it, that he should never be taken seriously, dreading future awkwardness when Mr Egbert laughed.

The tension broke. Bro exhaled.

In the kitchen, Bro cut carrot and cucumber and cooked egg, very carefully not getting more involved than that. He was precise about following every one of Mr Egbert's instructions to the letter, not wanting to fuck up dinner on top of crashing it. It was only his third night there, and though cooking was less daunting with someone so obviously relaxed in the room, it still felt like a gift. 

Mr Egbert was at ease in the kitchen in a way that Bro envied, confident in his cooking ability and never once consulting a recipe. 

Despite Bro absolutely not being a sushi person (something his poor weeb ass would never admit), he and Dave both were blown away. Three for three, Egbert cooking was the best. Apparently Korean sushi was a billion times better than Japanese sushi (kimbap, or gimbap, or something) but it was more than that. It was being looked after.

Mr Egbert told them that it was a family recipe, and Bro could tell that Dave was almost as touched as he was about being treated like family. Except Dave got over it, too ready to talk about movie marathon plans with John than dwell on serious shit. 

When Mr Egbert asked the boys to do the dishes they did it without question. Bro gaped at the sight of Dave knowing how to operate a kitchen sink. He had never seen evidence of that before. Little shit was not going to be getting away with leaving bowls of cereal around anymore.

Mr Egbert gestured for Bro to follow him back to his study so they could continue the lesson.

This time Bro was the one working the leather.

Mr Egbert didn't make Bro take off his shades or gloves, which he was grateful for. Little concessions like that were why he was feeling somewhat okay in their house. He was feeling more than a little on the back foot, unused to being a complete beginner at anything, so any kind of normalcy was good.

He had no trouble measuring the leather or cutting it. It was very similar to working with fabric, just thicker, in some ways easier because it didn't shift under his blade.

'Good,' Mr Egbert said, watching from the side of the desk, and Bro felt himself flush. Mr Egbert had chosen to stand rather than sit on the piano stool and his attention was heavy on Bro's hands.

It took more effort to push the final cutting tool through the leather than Bro thought. Mr Egbert hadn't looked like he was trying when he did it. He had strength hidden there somewhere in those tailored clothes.

Bro shaped the tail with much slower movements than Mr Egbert had. It was electric being under such close scrutiny. He couldn't help but wonder if Mr Egbert was as aware of his gaze when their positions were reversed. He could practically feel where he was looking on his skin. Had Mr Egbert felt him looking at his wrists and forearms, at his neck and jaw? Bro's gaze had wandered a lot when it was him doing the watching.

He looked up, meeting Mr Egbert's eyes.

'You're doing fine, Dirk,' Mr Egbert said, as if all Bro wanted was his approval.

Bro looked back down at the belt.

Mr Egbert turned on the small burner on the desk and started to heat the next tool for Bro, before handing it over apologetically.

'Usually when I'm teaching something it's not to one who can handle sharp tools and hot things on his own. I apologise.'

Bro should have felt offended that Mr Egbert was handling him so carefully. He didn't. He took the tool and held it over the flame.

'Not too long,' Mr Egbert said. 'Only until it's just too hot to hold your fingers on for more than a few seconds.'

Bro took the tool away and tested it carefully, barely touching the hot metal the first time in fear of being burnt.

It was harder to seal the edges than Bro thought it would be from watching. It wasn't like anything he'd had to do before, but he had steady hands and he could take it slower than Mr Egbert did, dragging the tool down the leather in small increments.

It took him a lot longer to punch the small holes into it so the two strips of could be sewed together. He'd never been a hammerkind man, though he wasn't entirely unfamiliar. It was just strange. He could feel his forearms starting to ache a bit, and less than halfway down the first side had to extend his arms to shake out the new, tight feeling in them. He had to do this three more times. 

Thankfully, Mr Egbert didn't comment on his weakness. Bro was not used to showing weakness. He almost felt the need to show off how many pushups he could do so that he could save face.

He'd never worked out this part of his body before, and it was starting to show.

He finished the first line and moved to turn the leather around to start on the other side, but Mr Egbert stopped him. He held his hand out for the leather and Bro handed it to him.

Mr Egbert lifted the almost-belt close to his eyes and ran a thumb along it, feeling the indent of those slow-earned holes. Bro knew exactly why he was turned on and there was nothing he could do to convince himself there was no need to be when looking at the businessman holding the strap of leather in front of him so promisingly. 

'This is exceptionally straight,' Mr Egbert said, 'I wasn't expecting you to pay such close attention to detail. This is good work.'

Bro clenched his jaw in an effort to stop himself from swallowing or blushing. His shades didn't cover nearly enough.

'I rarely do a belt all in one go. Better to let it sit.' Mr Egbert placed the leather carefully on the desk and indicated the armchairs in the corner of the room. Bro sat obediently before he realised that he didn't have to do everything the man said. He only didn't stand up again because he didn't want to look uncertain.

'Do you smoke?' Mr Egbert asked.

'Only when I'm past exhausted or drinking,' Bro answered, honestly. He couldn't afford a more consistent habit. 

Mr Egbert made an approving noise before leaving the room, leaving Bro in his chair, uncertain about what was happening. He didn't know if he should be following Mr Egbert or staying put. He certainly couldn't just go to bed, much as he was starting to think some distance might be wise. This was Dave's best friend's dad. Bro was undoubtedly attracted to him, but that was irrelevant. He wasn't getting kicked out in the middle of winter in Washington with about $20 in his wallet. 

Mr Egbert returned before Bro could stress himself into circles with two whiskey tumblers full of amber liquid. He handed one to Bro and sat in the matching chair, both close enough to feel intimate and yet too far away.

'Do you like magic?' Mr Egbert asked.

'What, like tricks?' Bro said.

'I believe it takes more than a trick to have cigars growing from your ear,' Mr Egbert said seriously.

He leaned forward, the hand holding his own drink resting on Bro's thigh as he twisted his other wrist with a flourish next to Bro's ear. When he pulled it back, he was holding a cigar in the tips of his fingers. It took everything Bro had not to flinch away from the very mundane trick. Though the fact that Mr Egbert's sleeves were rolled up and Bro had seen no sign of a cigar there before was kind of impressive.

Mr Egbert smiled mostly with his eyes, showing exactly how he had earned those laugh lines as he handed the cigar over.

'You grew it, I suppose you get to smoke it.'

Bro wanted to protest that his ears did not spontaneously start growing cigars. A cigarette, he could accept. A cigar felt like too much luxury on top of everything. But he knew that was exactly what five-year-olds said to the same trick. He took the cigar and watched with reluctance as Mr Egbert pulled away further, settling on the edge of his armchair rather than leaning in towards Bro.

He set his glass on the coffee table near them and pulled out a handkerchief from his trouser pocket. Bro could feel his mouth threatening to smile as he watched Mr Egbert hold it up by two corners, swishing it from side to side to show that it was in no way extraordinary. Bro couldn't help it. He loved magic.

Mr Egbert regarded his own handkerchief with something like polite surprise before he shook it enough to make the fabric bounce and a cigar cutter fall out onto his lap.

'My mother always taught me to never go anywhere without my handkerchief,' he said. 'It really is the most useful thing.'

He shook the handkerchief again and Bro couldn't help but crane his neck to see if something else had fallen out.

'Hmm,' Dad said. 'It appears to be faulty.'

Bro rolled his eyes behind his shades.

'Or it could be that someone nearby doesn't believe that it is indeed magic.'

Bro raised his eyebrows in disbelief. He had no idea how to respond to this kind of baiting. 

'Young man, you wouldn't be doubting my magic hanky, would you?'

'I wouldn't dare,' Bro said, deadpan.

Mr Egbert smiled again, that same charming smile. He placed the handkerchief on Bro's hand. Bro shuffled to the edge of his seat and held his drink away, trying to be as compliant as possible. 

'If you could demonstrate your faith with a kiss,' Mr Egbert said.

Bro frowned at the handkerchief with confusion. This was not what he was expecting, but okay, he could play along.

Bro didn't move his hands, one still holding his glass and the other covered in handkerchief, but he leaned forward to press his lips gently to Mr Egbert's.

He pulled back and looked at the handkerchief expectantly. Nothing magic had happened.

'Oh,' Mr Egbert said. 'Well, I meant the handkerchief.'

Bro closed his eyes in mortification. Wow. He may as well book his flight home.

'But faith in me is faith in the magic,' Mr Egbert said gently. 'So ...'

He pulled the handkerchief from Bro's hand with a gesture only a bit more understated than the one he used to pull the cigar out of Bro's ear.

Somehow, Bro was left with matches in his hand.

He actually had no idea how Mr Egbert was doing these. He was paying close attention. He didn't think he was the kind of guy who could be fooled by misdirection. 

'You don't have a cigar,' Bro pointed out.

'I don't. Perhaps your ear has another to offer?'

Bro tilted his head towards Mr Egbert obligingly. He really didn't seem to be making a big deal over Bro's misunderstanding. Thankfully. Bro was not going to let his thoughts get carried away there. Just because he didn't get punched for it didn't mean it was wanted.

Mr Egbert showed Bro his hands, turning them over to show that they were empty. He moved slightly closely and, careful to move slowly so as not to spook him, and took Bro's chin with gentle fingertips as if him moving would somehow stop the magic from working. It made Bro's pulse sky rocket. He felt very conscious of the fact that if Mr Egbert moved his fingers slightly he would be able to tell just how affected he was.

Mr Egbert turned Bro's head, guiding him by the chin and made a show of examining his ears, one after another.

Bro was suddenly aware of the fact that it had been four years since he last got to take his time with anything romantic. Having a kid had made him very grateful for the way there was always a guy at the club willing to have a no strings attached quickie but he could remember what it was like to be actually taken home and looked after. He remembered what it was like to be uncertain about whether the man he was interested in was interested in him back.

Bro was looking at Mr Egbert's eyes instead of his hands when the inevitable flick of his wrist came next to his ear, but he knew that wouldn't matter. The trick would be just as flawless as the ones before it.

Cigar obtained, Mr Egbert patted Bro on the knee with a warm smile.

'You've been a wonderful assistant,' he said.

Bro watched as Mr Egbert trimmed and lit his cigar and had the strangest flashback to watching his own father do the same thing. He was just glad he knew how to do it.

He wanted to impress Mr Egbert. He wanted to be worth his time.

It was a lot easier to feel like he could be worth someone's time, even an older and more together someone's time, when he was a student destined for amazing things instead of just who he was now. He used to have potential. Now he was just a guy who knew his way around a car and a record. Maybe he was just cockier when he was younger.

To be fair to himself, he'd never attempted to hit on a guy with this level of no, off limits attached to him. Well, there were a few married men who were also friends of his parents but he was absolutely fine with that being the way he was found out at that point.

If Bro had been at a bar and talking to Mr Egbert, he would absolutely assume that he was in with a chance here. But he was a guest, Mr Egbert probably felt the need to entertain him. It wasn't worth getting kicked out, it wasn't worth injecting awkwardness into Dave and John's relationship. 

He could keep his composure.

He sipped at his drink—scotch, not whisky—and took a slow inhale of the cigar. It was a different beast than a cigarette. A different burn in the lungs. More flavour and less air, but an easy habit to fall back into.

'I don't know if I've thanked you properly for all this,' Bro said.

Dad smiled and waved his hand carelessly.

'I don't think I've ever seen John so happy. I might have to convince you to come back for his birthday, nothing else I do will top this now.'

Bro had a moment of panic. There was no way he could afford to do this again in April. Not a chance, he couldn't even really afford to be doing it then.

'I was considering asking Dave to sit in a present box under the tree, but I don't think John would even consider doing the unwrapping without him there too,' Mr Egbert continued, oblivious to Bro's first freak-out and smoothly transitioning into causing a second one.

Presents. Bro had completely forgotten presents. He had no fucking money and it was the 22nd of December. 

He didn't even think he had time to make something, and even if he did, what would he make it out of? He was in Washington, not his apartment, he didn't have anything.

Dave probably knew that coming here was the biggest present he'd ever got or will get from Bro but he was still a kid, he needed to open something on Christmas Day. And of course Bro should have thought about getting John something as well.

'Are you alright?' Mr Egbert asked. 'You look ... pale.'

Bro bit back a comment about how he'd always been pale and instead attempted to get his head arranged enough to continue having a normal fucking conversation.

'Fine, sorry, Mr Egbert, I just realised I still have to get the boys presents and ... presumably the malls here will be just as crowded as the ones back home this close to Christmas.'

Look at that, a reason to be dreading it that wasn't Bro's overwhelming incompetence. How could he not have budgeted for this. He planned for everything. Oh shit fuck damn, taxis in December were expensive as hell.

'You wouldn't happen to have a bus route nearby?' Bro asked.

'I'll drive you,' Mr Egbert said. 'Just name a time. And James is fine.'

Mr Egbert had been attempting to encourage some level of comfort between himself and the boys. While Dave's insistence on calling him 'Mr Egbert' or 'sir' was an endearing sign of respect, it felt like a barrier when it came from Bro. Two adults in this kind of close proximity should be on a first name basis. 

Bro nodded to himself and took a mouthful of scotch much larger than his previous restrained sip. He seemed very nervous for a man whose only worry was the upcoming ordeal of Christmas crowds. It was increasingly worrying how Bro seemed not only to struggle to provide for Dave, but that small matters like this caused him distress. Mr Egbert didn't know what to do about it.

*

Bro walked downstairs the next morning with his laptop under his arm, feeling uncertain as hell as to whether he'd really be able to convince someone to give him money without him giving anything in return but promises. Mr Egbert wasn't in the house, but the boys were watching cartoon, cocooned up as if they were much younger than 15.

'Yo,' Dave said, ignoring Bro's judgemental eyebrow. 'Wanna get in on this cartoon action, Bro?'

Bro hesitated, not sure if he should be crashing their party, but he'd barely seen them since they'd arrived. Probably a good idea to get to know Dave's best friend.

'I didn't know Transformers was still a thing,' Bro said as he chose an armchair. He opened his laptop on his knees, knowing Dave wouldn't get pissy about it. 

'There's been about a billion Transformers series since you used to watch it, old man,' Dave said. 

Bro stared at Dave blankly, pretending he didn't find that funny. John sniggered in his own blanket cocoon. Wait, were they sharing a blanket? There was a lot of plush fabric going on there, Bro couldn't tell if they were sitting next to each other or swaddled together. Was John actually Dave's boyfriend? 

He ignored that for the moment and opened his browser, activating the add-on he had programmed to make all sites look as bland as possible. Images were replaced with optional links to the image, the body font was changed to Times New Roman and the colour was removed, making the whole thing kind of look like an old school newspaper. It meant that Bro could check in on his Patreon without worrying about someone in the room seeing his dick.

Dave commented continuously through the cartoon and the ads while John alternated between telling him to shut up and bantering right back. If John didn't like movie talkers, he was going to be tragically disappointed in Dave. Bro refused to take him to the cinema anymore. Kid was a public nuisance. 

Bro occasionally put his own comments in, mostly bemoaning the loss of proper stuntmen because of the animation or designating anything from characters to trees gay (he claimed as a gay man he could just tell when someone else was and come on, look at that tree, Dave, are you saying that's a straight tree?) while he reviewed his list of tragically short Patreon subscribers. Providing a handful of strangers with dick pics was far from a stable income, especially when some people subscribed for a month and then cancelled it before they could be charged again, but it had made a difference in the past.

$100 or so a month wasn't a lot, but it was more than worth the effort. One of the guys who had been around for a while and who always paid for bonus images caught Bro's attention. He decided to message him to gauge his interest.

This is the beginning of your private message chain with undyingUmbrage [uu]

TT: Hey, how would you feel about paying in advance for a one time vid? Exclusive access and more than I usually show to make it worth it for you.

The guy replied back within two minutes. Wow. Eager. 

uu: I WOuLD BE VERY INTERESTED. ARE YOu SO DESPERATE FOR MY MONEY?  
TT: Something like that.

Bro did some mental maths, trying to figure out how much he needed to get Dave and John some dumb nerd shit and whether he should budget for lunch as well.

TT: How about $100 for a 10 minute video?  
uu: WHAT WOuLD YOu BE DOING FOR ME?  
TT: The plan was to jerk it in an aesthetically pleasing way, but I'm open to suggestions/requests. This would be just for you.  
uu: YOu MuST SHOW ME YOuR FACE. I BET YOu LOOK STuPID WHEN YOU CuM.   
uu: AND SAY MY NAME.  
uu: FuLL AUDIO. SO I CAN HEAR HOW MUCH YOu WANT IT.  
TT: If you send me the money in the next hour, I'll get you your video by the 5th of January.

The guy didn't immediately reply, but before Bro could seriously consider checking in, he got an email from Paypal saying he had been donated $120. Wow, the guy actually tipped. That more than made up for the stupid typing thing. Maybe he should have tried this before he resorted to more desperate measures to get the money for the plane tickets.

TT: Thank you.   
TT: What name am I going to be moaning? With money like this I might start practising it early.  
uu: YOu ARE A VERY GOOD WHORE.  
uu: AND YOu MAY CALL ME CALIBORN.  
uu: OR MY LORD, DEPENDING ON YOuR DIGNITY.

Bro had never been accused of having an excess of that. And he was definitely wanting to stay on this guy's good side. This could be life saving in the future.

TT: Thank you, my lord. I'll let you know if I have any further questions. Please feel free to request anything you like, I won't be able to film until after Christmas.

It was a tight timeline, he'd have to kick Dave out of the house so he could do it almost the second they got home and then he'd have to edit it that day. He'd also have to find out how to edit at some point before then. But it was worth it.

Bro's phone rang while he was just finalising the last details. John stared as the loud chorus from the '90s Aqua classic, Barbie Girl started playing loudly from Bro's pocket. Bro met his disbelieving eyes with expressionless nonchalance as he answered.

'Dirk why the fuck are you so far away, I need you!' Roxy cried.

Bro slid out from under his laptop and left the room. 

'What's up, Rox,' he said.

'Nepeta can come to my family's Christmas!'

'That's the opposite of a problem.'

'I already introduced Feferi to Mom as my girlfriend, I can't ask Nepeta to just be my friend!'

'Also anyone who is in the room with you for more than a minute and a half will be able to tell,' Bro pointed out. Roxy was the opposite of subtle. And also freaking out over nothing. Her mom was cool.

*

Mr Egbert finished washing his car and came back inside. Though he had cleaned it prior to the Striders visiting, he'd wanted to give it another once over before actually having a guest in it. Worth doing it properly. 

'Hey, Mr E,' Dave said.

Mr Egbert regarded the boys, so comfortable in each other's space and smiled. 

'Good morning. Dave, is that your laptop?'

'Nah, Bro's.'

Mr Egbert picked up the laptop and holds it carefully open, not wanting to close the lid and lose any work that Bro was doing. It couldn't live on the chair. He carried it up to Bro's room and while he didn't mean to look at the screen, he was grateful that it looked just like an article of some kind. As he was walking up the stairs, he couldn't help but peruse it. He had a weakness for non-fiction.

It was not an article.

He knew he should have stopped immediately, but by the time he had realised that it was not an article, he knew what it was. And what it was was too important to disregard as if he had not seen it.

Mr Egbert had known that the Striders were not well off. He knew that Bro worked two jobs and that they went without things. Up until that moment, he had assumed that this was more due to a youthful negligence on Bro's part than an actual lack of resources. Dave had an iPhone. He had a room full of things. He had medicinal needs that were clearly being taken care of, he had given himself an injection on camera to John before in an effort to unnerve him.

But this ...

He placed the laptop gently on the desk in Bro's room and instead of going downstairs again immediately like he'd planned, stepped into his own room and locked the door behind him. He pulled out his own laptop, unable to spare his usual fond look for Bing Crosby and pulled up the website that Bro had had open. He'd heard of Patreon before, and he remembered the username from Bro's screen. The change from Dirk Strider to Dirk Walker honestly didn't seem like enough security, but when he arrived there was at least a paywall.

Mr Egbert needed to set up an account to progress further. It was easily done and he didn't even need to use his real information. Useful, considering he didn't want Bro to know he was doing this. 

He needed to know what he could see by paying just $5 a month. 

Within seconds of his payment processing, the site transformed.

Five photos a month for $5. $20 to see the back catalogue of material. $10 for an additional five gifs. An extra option to donate and a section for comments and requests. 

Mr Egbert opened up the photos, even though he knew what they must be. The lighting and general setup were very consistent, as if the photographer had been instructed on the best composition to use and had stuck with it. None of the photos showed higher than his Adam's apple, which was something to be said for anonymity.

The first photo showed him wearing an unbuttoned suit shirt and some clinging briefs with a prominent bulge in them. In the next, the shirt was gone, exposing two pierced nipples, and his hand squeezing the bulge provocatively. In the next, he was completely naked, kneeling on wide-spread legs and his hand on his hip bone like he could barely wait to touch himself. In the last, he was on all fours, facing away from the camera, inches away from grinding into white bed-sheets, the majority of his behind covered by an emoji of a Santa hat.

Another paywall. To see the uncensored photo it was only another $5.

Mr Egbert didn't need to pay it, because it was very obvious what it would be. He ... had the money, though. It was nothing, and it would help Bro be able to afford a better Christmas present for his brother. Both of them deserved that. Mr Egbert didn't even need to look at the uncensored photo.

He paid the money. 

The photo loaded automatically before Mr Egbert could even make the choice not to look at it. Bro appeared in all his glory on Mr Egbert's screen, face strategically out of shot by virtue of being pressed into his mattress, hand reaching back to press a rather large, shiny metal toy further into himself. 

It was this image that made Mr Egbert properly aware that his erection was now pressed painfully against his trousers. It was more of an inconvenience than anything else. After all it was perfectly natural that a healthy man would react this way to seeing photos of this kind. He wasn't enjoying them unduly, it was just an honest reaction. Biological. Nothing personal to the young man in the pictures.

He unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers, a bit exasperated at his body but well aware that this did not need to have any impact on his relationship with Bro in any way. He didn't even need to do anything about it, now that the pressure was relieved, he was as comfortable as he needed to be to continue his research. 

As he was on the site, he might as well pay the $20 to get the rest of the images that were there. He didn't need to view these any more than he had needed to see the uncensored photo he had just paid for, but all the money he spent was going some way to alleviating the anxiety he felt for the young men under his charge for Christmas and he did still have some concerns about security. He hoped that Bro's face would continue to be hidden and he was curious as to whether they all followed the same formula or if there was some variety.

He didn't need to linger, in any case, and so clicked through the photos as quickly as he could while still taking in the contents. It had the effect of making Mr Egbert feel almost overwhelmed by picture after picture of his young body being manipulated in a variety of ways. He was broad from his work, and he looked strong, but he was also thin enough to see his ribs and pale to the extreme except for the July photos in which he had a pink burn reaching down his shoulders. Orange freckles made constellations across his skin, particularly where he must see sun, and his hair was almost white, just like the hair on his head that he kept under his baseball cap for the most part.

The March set of images featured a guest, whose (less impressive, in Mr Egbert's opinion) cock Bro sat on rather beautifully. Mr Egbert wondered how in the world that worked. Did he ask someone he was dating to contribute? Or, worse, did someone who knew he was in this awful position offer to join in? That would truly be heinous, to proposition someone because they knew that Bro was willing to do this. Of course it made one wonder what else he was willing to do, but it was an awful thought that ought not to be acted on.

Mr Egbert paid for every feature he could find on the page and then scrolled back to the comment section. He knew better than to look. He did so anyway.

The comments were actually mostly complimentary, even if their expression tended to lack politeness. They still rankled. Strangers on the internet were treating this young man like a piece of meat, or worse. No one deserved to be talked about like that. 

Certainly not a young man who was so obviously devoted to his brother or who was surprisingly good at chess, who was willing to learn new skills and unfailingly grateful for even simple things like a home cooked meal. Mr Egbert did not want that for Bro at all

He was angry, and almost went to leave his seat to tell Bro that he was to stop doing this immediately, that Mr Egbert would match the payments or work out some kind of plan to keep him from this indignity. Except he had forgotten about his state of undress and unsuitability.

Mr Egbert looked down at his crotch as if mystified as to how he'd gotten himself into this state. The pornographic photos still on his laptop screen mocked him. He eased himself back into his chair, knowing perfectly well the quickest and most satisfying solution to this problem.

He also knew that even if he closed all his windows and tried to think of something else, his mind would have to wander back to Bro. Not out of any inappropriate feelings Mr Egbert had for the man himself, just from pure exposure to some well-taken photographs. None of his magazines would be able to compete with what he had just seen. Not while this issue was so firmly at the forefront of his mind.

He found himself moving his cursor to open up December's gif files. The tease of undressing particularly appealed to Mr Egbert, and if he was going to do this he was going to do this fast. Get it over with. 

He slid his pants down a bit further, freeing himself as he clicked the button to load the next gif.

The Bro on screen stroked his hand along his clothed cock. The fabric strained even further as the gif went along and reset itself. There was a subtle wet patch there where the tip must be releasing pre. Mr Egbert swallowed and clicked the next arrow.

Bro thrusted his now naked hips towards the camera and his cock bounced in an intriguing way. The muscles of his abdomen clenched and relaxed in the background and Mr Egbert imagined how it would feel to stroke down that firmness. To deny the eagerness of that extremely hard cock. The gif had a wonderfully smooth pattern, so it almost looked like a continuous video rather than the same few seconds playing over and over again. 

Mr Egbert clicked the next button, right hand still firmly stroking himself, and he wasn't disappointed. Bro's fingers pushed and pulled the toy in his ass as he rolled his hips into empty air, his hand barely covering his face as it clutched at the sheets. He looked desperate and on the very edge of orgasm, the gif cycle again making it look like one long drawn out affair. 

Mr Egbert's hips started to buck up into his hand, imagining what it would be like to replace that toy, imagining that young and strong body completely helpless with arousal below him. He would treat him so well. He'd keep him on the edge just like this and Bro would curse him out for it, but it would only make the pleasure even better.

It didn't take long for Mr Egbert to reach orgasm, cupping his hand over his cock to keep from spilling directly onto his laptop screen. He breathed heavily as he came back down. That was foolish of him. But it couldn't be helped now, he would just have to put it out of his mind. 

He cleaned himself up and removed all traces of the website from his history before going back downstairs. Bro was sitting on the chair, laptop on his knees like he must have been before. 

"Let me know when you would like me to drive you to the mall," Mr Egbert said, his voice carefully polite.

'I'm ready whenever you are," Bro replied, looking up to meet his eyes. 

Mr Egbert's stomach flipped. He was not going to think about why he was having that reaction. He was an Egbert. He was more than capable of filing away inappropriate thoughts to put on the best face he could.


	3. Christmas

By Christmas miracle, not only did the payments from Caliborn go into Bro's account no problem, another person found his Patreon and bought everything it had to offer. He had more than enough to spend on Dave and John. He wasn't going to be an idiot and breeze through it all, but he _was_ going to use the extra cash to buy a bottle of wine for Mr Egbert as a combination Christmas and thank you present. And he was going to get something truly disgusting for lunch. He'd celebrate his rockin' bod by poisoning it with mass-produced tacos.

The shopping trip went fine, though Mr Egbert was slightly quieter than Bro had come to expect on the drive to the mall. Presumably he was a man who could sit in silence, Bro could respect that. On the way back they made small talk about the size of the mall compared to the ones back in Texas and Bro nobly resisted making an "everything's bigger in Texas" joke, even though it was tempting to see how Mr Egbert would react. Bro knew nothing was going to happen between them, but it was hard not to push. Just to see.

When they got home, Mr Egbert headed to his study to check on work emails and Bro found the boys in the living room, basically exactly where he'd left them, watching Christmas movies. He sat next to Dave and put his legs over both of their laps, just to be annoying.

'Hey, Bro,' Dave said.

'Why do you call him Bro?' John asked suddenly.

Bro opened his mouth to change the subject, not sure how much John knew, but Dave spoke before he could.

'Be weird if I called him Dad,' Dave said. 'But everyone else gets to call their parents something and he's more my parent than the fuckers we left. So: Bro.'

'So should I call him Bro or Dirk?'

'Wow, "him" is sitting right here,' Bro pointed out. 'With functional ears and everything. Either's fine, John, most of my friends call me Bro too. I'm pretty sure I'm Bro in my own damn head now.'

'Shoulda changed it when we did the others,' Dave said.

'John knows our deadname?'

'That a problem?' Dave asked. He looked somewhat unsure, like he couldn't go telling his friends whatever he liked about his story. Bro gave him an apologetic half-smile.

'Nah, just don't look me up. Only ones who would are our fam and I might have somethin' set up if they do. Nosy bastards.'

John called their attention back to the movie, but quiet watching didn't last that long. After all, Dave was still there and John hadn't been clever enough to feed him taffy or something that made his teeth stick together. Bro would have to send him a list of ways to stop Dave from talking. Murder would definitely be a top suggestion.

'If you had to bang a Christmas character, who would it be?' Dave asked.

'Michael Bublé,' Bro answered without hesitation.

'He's not a Christmas character, Bro,' Dave complained.

'If he ever released a CD of him dirty talking for the millions of middle aged women who would buy it and then spontaneously combust, I would nut so hard right along with them. I mean, ideally he would sing it, but mmmm. Bublé.'

'Christmas character!' Dave insisted.

'Wait til you hear Dad singing along to him,' John laughed. 'He does _Have Yourself A Merry Merry Christmas_ just as good.'

'Turns out you do have to call me Bro, John, seeing as I'm gonna marry your dad.'

Bro narrowly held himself back from saying something a lot less innocent. For one, he shouldn't treat all kids with quite the same casualness he did Dave, for another, he would be mortified if Mr Egbert walked in on Bro describing himself doing something filthy to him with zero context.

'That'd be pretty weird,' Dave said awkwardly.

Bro still had no idea if they were together or not.

'I think it'd be awesome!' John exclaimed. 'You could stay here with us! We'd be brothers!'

Okay, not together. That'd be pretty weird to say if they were. Except Dave had that tiny, almost unnoticeable frown in his eyebrows that meant he was kinda really upset. Bro felt himself mimicking the expression exactly.

'Dude, did you just brother-zone me?' Dave said.

John's eyes went wide with surprise. Bro took his feet awkwardly off them and put them on the floor so he was sitting normally. He wasn't sure if he should leave.

'Uh ... Were you not already brother-zoned? Were we not in the brother-zone together? The brother-zone is a good place to be!'

'I thought we were dating,' Dave said.

Bro started to move away but Dave grabbed his shirt so he slumped back into the couch. Stupid emotional support.

'I'm, like, way too young to think about anyone in a romancey way,' John said. 'It's like, who has the time? There are video games, you know? I don't even know if I like boys. Or girls for that matter.'

'Huh,' Dave said.

All three of them were silent as the room processed this information. John looked anxious, like he was afraid he'd done something wrong. Dave looked pretty damn neutral, which meant he was thinking hard. Bro hoped he didn’t look like anything. Ideally, in a way that meant that he was invisible, but failing that, he’d settle for expressionless.

God, this was awkward.

'Bro, did you need me for something?' Dave said eventually, breaking the silence and a good deal of the tension that went with it.

'Yup. Backyard, kid, let's go,' Bro said.

Bro jogged up to his bedroom and grabbed their gloves from his bag. He'd known he wouldn't have been able to get their swords through security, but he'd also known that whenever he missed too many days training Dave, the kid got antsy as fuck and besides, Christmas food. He might have a good metabolism and a fondness for cheat days whenever he could afford them, but he still made money from people who seemed to like his body the way it was.

He met Dave in the backyard and threw him his gloves. He swapped his own over, throwing his usual, unpadded ones on the back step where John was sitting. Poor kid was biting his lip nervously, but Bro could only deal with one human’s emotional distress at a time and unfortunately for John, Dave was his priority. Maybe later he’d have a talk about how it was all okay and he shouldn’t feel like he owed anyone any feelings that didn’t come natural. Or he could text Dave a similar sentiment and hope it got passed along.

Bro shook his arms out and rolled his neck by way of stretching and getting his focus back. He twisted his hat to the back to show that he meant business. And also because it was less likely to fall off that way.

Dave advanced and Bro stepped lightly to meet him, keeping back just a bit to make sure Dave was still the one coming to him. They were neither of them dressed for it, both in skinny jeans and normal shirts, but they rarely were. If they were going to get in a real fight, they weren't going to be getting into their gym gear first.

They both made small feinting movements as they eyed each other's weak points, and then Bro threw the first punch at Dave's head. Dave ducked and turned the movement into a full body tackle, but Bro shrugged backwards out of his grip easily, bouncing back on his toes and to the side.

Bro feinted a punch before kicking at Dave's head. Dave grabbed his leg perfectly and Bro would compliment him on his form if he wasn't off balance and falling to the ground. He turned as he fell and got to his feet in time for Dave to try to tackle Bro again.

Bro planted his feet and sank his balance low as Dave struggled to knock him over. He pulled Bro's leg up in an attempt to unbalance him, but Bro punched him in the face and he had to dance backwards to avoid another direct hit. He couldn't take too many of those.

Bro advanced this time, aiming strong punches with each of his fists in turn. Dave dodged.

'Good,' Bro said. Dave grinned at him and ducked under his next punch to get three quick jabs into Bro's stomach.

Bro grabbed Dave's head, but Dave slipped out again. Dave kicked Bro's knee, forcing him to kneel on that leg out of reflex. Bro grabbed Dave around his waist and dragged him to the ground, using the momentum Dave's kick had given him. Dave's breath audibly left him, and Bro lifted his fist to punch him again.

'Stop!'

Bro and Dave froze at the sound of Mr Egbert's voice.

*

Half an hour later, freshly showered, Bro and Dave were sitting in Mr Egbert's kitchen with icepacks on spots that were barely red to prevent bruising. John had excused himself under thin pretexts that were clearly "I don't want to be involved in the lecture".

'You may leave too, Dave,' Mr Egbert said.

'Don't be mad at Bro,' Dave said. 'He's a good teacher and—'

'You may leave too, Dave,' Mr Egbert repeated, more firmly.

 _Hot_ , Bro thought on reflex. It didn't change the fact that his stomach was swimming in dread. If Mr Egbert reported him, his word would carry a lot more weight than Bro's. He didn't think he'd hold up well in an investigation, either. He wasn't exactly on great terms with the PTA.

Dave reluctantly slid off his stool and patted Bro's shoulder before he went upstairs.

'I can explain,' Bro said.

'Please do,' Mr Egbert said.

Well, he hadn't actually thought he'd be taken up on that. His parents had never once wanted to hear his side when they looked at him like this. He pulled off his gloves and handed them to Mr Egbert so he could see that they’re padded.

'I'm training him. Kid has to know how to defend himself, it keeps us both in shape, I pull my punches enough to not hurt him.'

'And why was it happening in my backyard?'

'Think if I didn't direct Dave's fists at me they mighta been goin' towards your boy.' Mr Egbert frowned in confusion so Bro elaborated. 'They got their wires crossed. Not surprisin'. I wasn't much for talkin' 'bout my feelings when I was their age either. Still not.'

'Does your "training" often involve hitting him when he's down?'

Bro stared at Mr Egbert for a long moment. He might have been looking after Dave for a few years now, but he still wasn't used to being talked to like this. It was like when Dave's principal called Bro in for a meeting. That strange mixture of authority and equality, like they were both adults, but Bro was definitely still the lesser adult. Dealing with Dave was pretty easy most of the time, their relationship hadn't changed that much from when they were just brothers if you disregarded the part where Bro was completely responsible for everything Dave did and had. Bro sometimes thought that he was letting Dave down somehow by still getting into stupid brother arguments and failing to enforce a bedtime, but it was fucking _hard_ to change how he treated him after a decade and a half. He still looked out for him.

'Other assholes would. Dave's pulled back from tighter spots. He's not the kind of kid who gives up when a guy gets the upper hand and that's because I taught him better.'

'You think he needs that skill.'

'I know he does.'

Mr Egbert frowned. And then nodded.

'I think I can understand. I'm not sure I approve. But I think I understand.' Bro breathed a subtle sigh of relief. 'Almost.' Okay, breathed too soon.

'What can I do to assure you,' Bro asked. He dropped the hand holding the icepack to the back of his head where he didn't even need it and let it land on the table in front of him with a gentle thud.

'I used to box in my youth. Would you go toe to toe with me?'

'You wanna dance?' Bro growled.

Mr Egbert raised an eyebrow. Bro considered that maybe he shouldn't make his first response to every challenge aggressive flirting. This was why he was still avoiding Dave's school. Who even knew there was a proper etiquette for parent teacher nights.

'I would like to see what your training looks like for myself. I wouldn't like to judge without knowing for myself.'

'I don't mind getting physical with you, Mr Egbert.'

Okay, that was the quickest Bro has ever gone back on a resolution. Eh.

Mr Egbert smiled.

'I don't mind either,' he said.

Oh _damn_.

*

Mr Egbert raked the frost from the grass and borrowed Bro's MMA gloves, saying that he'd prefer his own hits to be cushioned rather than Bro's. Bro donned his usual fingerless gloves and gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hurt Mr Egbert, he didn't want him to think that he had been hurting Dave, but he really didn't like the implication that a man in his 40s who hadn't fought in years was, by virtue of having lived longer, going to have the upper hand on him. He might train with a 15 year old, but he did so at least once a week. He could beat an old man.

Mr Egbert, on the other hand, had the advantage of already knowing exactly how much Bro weighed, having carried him into the house only a few days ago. He also had chosen to downplay his experience. His mother had taught him the value of an underestimating opponent. And despite Bro's distinct disadvantages in life, Mr Egbert could tell that this was one area in which he felt an unreasonable level of confidence. He was about to correct that.

Mr Egbert hung his jacket carefully on a hook at the back door and rested his tie over it. Obviously leaving it on would present Bro with an advantage. He folded his sleeves carefully and neatly while Bro watched, arms crossed over his chest. The longer he took, the more Bro really wanted to punch him.

Eventually they were squaring off, circling each other with deliberate steps. It felt different to Bro than fighting Dave, not just because Mr Egbert was only a couple of inches shorter rather than a whole foot, but because there was a confidence about him that Bro hadn't seen often. It was like Mr Egbert not only thought he could win, he was sure that he could do so without taking a single hit. And more than that: there was an intensity that had nothing to do with the very real hold Mr Egbert had over Bro's life at that moment. There was something chemical there.

Bro advanced first, faster than he would starting off with Dave but still slow enough that he knew he would be able to control all his movements perfectly, and aimed a textbook one-two at Mr Egbert's stomach and chest. Mr Egbert blocked and followed up with a punch to Bro's jaw which Bro moved with so that it barely connected. It still hurt just as much as one of Dave's more solid punches. Dude was strong.

Mr Egbert punched Bro's ribs and Bro grabbed his arm and rolled him into what was almost an embrace. He held him there, just for a moment. He was strong enough to throw Bro off, and Bro didn't want to risk that, but he did want to feel him struggle against him, to breathe in his cologne and the faint smell of pipe smoke that lingered on him before kicking out Mr Egbert's legs and dropping both of them to the ground.

Mr Egbert made a noise deep in his throat as Bro fell on him, but it didn't hurt as much as he had been expecting. Bro rolled off him, his hat somewhere on the ground nearby but no longer remotely important, and before Mr Egbert could wonder if Bro had controlled their landing to go easier on him, Bro knelt on his legs so he could aim four quick jabs to his torso, shaking his hair back out of his face as best he could. He didn’t need to be able to see to fight.

Mr Egbert attempted to grab Bro's hands but he was too fast. The best he could do was block the last jab before grabbing his waist and pulling him back down to the ground. Bro resisted, which only meant that Mr Egbert was able to use his body to drag himself up. Now both on their knees, and close enough that Mr Egbert could see Bro's strange golden eyes, they grappled with each other, trying to get the upper hand. Bro had the height advantage, but Mr Egbert was stronger. And he was now sure that he was indeed holding his punches.

Mr Egbert managed to get Bro off balance with a feint to one side and followed it up with a barrage of hits that left him slumped face-down on the ground for a breath, his arm twisted and held behind his back by Mr Egbert. Mr Egbert was just about to start counting down the victory when Bro pressed up again and Mr Egbert was left no choice but to grab him on the back of his neck and hold him still.

The pose that he had Bro in was far too provocative for Mr Egbert's liking, but he knew if he let up for a second that Bro would escape. He was fast and precise in a way that Mr Egbert had rarely seen. Against a regular man, he would have been impossible to defeat. Regular men were not raised by Jane Egbert.

'Concede,' Egbert ordered. His thumb stroked at the short hair at the base of Bro's neck as he kept purchase on it.

'I could get out of this,' Bro said.

'So get out of it.'

They breathed together for a moment, both of them unsure as to whether Bro really could do as he said. And then Bro surged up, wrenched his arm free and very nearly escaped. On reflex, Egbert tightened the hand around his neck and threw him back down to the ground, much harder than he would ever have done on purpose.

'You _fucker_ ,' Bro said thickly.

Mr Egbert let him go and hurried to kneel on the side he was facing. Oh, he was bleeding quite a bit there. Either he'd bitten his lip or he'd hit his nose on the ground, but that was rather a lot of blood.

'I _am_ sorry,' Mr Egbert said.

'"Bit of boxing in your youth" my ass,' Bro said.

'Yes, that might have been an understatement.'

Bro pushed himself up to sit and touched his fingers to his face. He grimaced when they came back red.

'Thought I tasted blood. _Jesus_ , Mr E, you satisfied?'

Well, Mr Egbert wasn't quite sure what that had accomplished or why it had seemed so important at the time, but it wouldn't do to admit that he'd just gotten carried away. That wasn't his way. He'd been trained to defend himself, not to subjugate young men.

'I really do think we're on first name terms now, don't you?'

Bro picked up the bottom of his shirt and used it to wipe up the blood on his face. It was his nose, not his lip, and it hadn't stopped bleeding. At least it didn't look broken. Mr Egbert couldn't help the way his eyes were drawn to the taut muscles of Bro's abdomen, which were still moving quickly as Bro caught his breath. Bro pulled the shirt away and sighed at the state of it.

'I'll get you a cloth,' Mr Egbert said.

'No need to make two things bloody,' Bro said.

He pulled his shirt off, and his shades clattered to the ground with the motion. He bunched the shirt up at his nose as he reached for his shades, but Mr Egbert beat him to them.

'You wear these all the time.'

'Sensitive to light. And eye contact, if I'm being honest.'

Mr Egbert slipped the shades onto his own face slowly. He wasn't quite sure why he was doing it, they absolutely wouldn't suit him, but the moment seemed too precious to just push away.

'And they're prescription,' he noted. ' _Dear God_ , your vision might be worse than John's.'

*

Following their fight, Dirk avoided Mr Egbert as much as he could. Part of it was fear that Mr Egbert was going to change his mind about Dirk's suitability as a guardian if he did one more stupid thing (and stupid things were pretty common in Dirk's experience). Part of it was that Mr Egbert had seen Dirk in a vulnerable place and that was always hard to move past. The biggest factor, though, was that Dirk already had a massive high school crush on Mr Egbert and being thrown into the ground by him had made things a lot worse in that department.

He was dreaming. He was _obsessing_ . He was _not_ going to act on it.

Dave noticed and assumed it was just normal Bro weirdness. He had his own shit going on. He and John had been able to move past their misunderstanding with minimal awkwardness (minimal awkwardness in this case was still fucking awkward) but Dave was still pining. He was grateful for the ability to hide away in Bro's room and join in on his mission to pare down his Netflix list for an hour or so when being around John was a bit much. Sometimes John came too, and Bro was glad to see that Dave wasn't freezing John out just because he didn't want to go out with him. Just occasionally taking breaks so he could try to move on. Kid was a lot more sensible that Dirk had been when he was his age.

*

Mr Egbert hadn't known what to expect in regards to Christmas, given that it was the first one with more than just himself and John since his wife had passed. He got up early, as was his habit, and baked bread for breakfast. Dirk was down first, which was unsurprising given that the boys had stayed up late watching Christmas movies again. The definition of Christmas movies was becoming less and less strict the longer Dave was down. Mr Egbert was just drying his hands after wiping down the kitchen when Dirk walked into the room.

'G'morning, Mr Egbert,' Dirk said.

'James,' he corrected. 'And good morning, Dirk. Merry Christmas.'

Dirk smiled a tiny shy smile and nodded. Mr Egbert felt unreasonably touched to see that small indication of happiness.

'Merry Christmas. What smells good?'

Mr Egbert turned to gesture at the oven.

'Bread. French toast for breakfast, it's John's favourite.'

'You're gonna make it very hard for us to leave, aren't you?'

Mr Egbert smiled as he poured Dirk a coffee. 'That is absolutely the plan.'

Dirk would be willing to stay with the Egberts just for the food even if he wasn't completely infatuated with the guy now adding way more sugar than necessary to his own drink. Jesus, did that even taste like coffee anymore? It must be practically solid.

'So, do you have any Christmas traditions? Like ... family ones?' Dirk asked. He sat on a stool to show that he was breaking out of his avoidance bullshit. He wasn't going to pull that on Christmas. Besides, he was in a good mood. This was easily going to be the best Christmas Dave had had since he moved in with Dirk. He'd really pulled this off. It wasn't often he felt proud of himself on a guardian front.

'My mother fully embraced the American way when she married my father, so most of what we do is exceedingly normal. Hence the name James. She was an excellent cook, both of Korean food and American, though the Korean food was a lot rarer in my childhood. It wasn't until I asked my father to go on a business trip so I could have my favourite for dinner that he realised that my mother had been compartmentalising her life so much and insisted on a more natural blend. My mother’s mother was the one who had thought that Americans wouldn’t care for our food, but I’ve never found that to be the case.'

Dirk loved the way Mr Egbert spoke. His voice was a deep rumble and every word seemed carefully chosen. Even if he wasn't feeling the warmth of inclusion from his sharing his past, hearing Mr Egbert's voice would make him want to talk more, to keep the conversation going.

'Have you been to Korea?' Dirk asked.

'Oh yes, quite a few times. I have family there. Even though I can go years without seeing them and my hometown is very different almost every time I visit, there is something very precious about landing in Seoul and hearing strangers speaking with words and accents I associate with my family. John fits in there even better than I do, they spoil him absolutely rotten. It's his blue eyes, they think he's an angel.'

'I'd believe that he is,' Dirk said.

'Mr Strider, are you angling for your presents early?' Mr Egbert teased.

'I thought we were on first name terms now, James.'

There was a loaded pause as the two of them regarded each other. James had been trying to get Dirk to refer to him by his given name the whole visit, but it felt different to hear it. Intimate. Dirk watched his reaction with interest. He wasn't completely socially inept. He knew that under normal circumstances, this wasn't a big deal. Under normal circumstances, the conversation would move on. It wasn't moving on, not yet. He was having an effect on James as well. It couldn’t be as much on James’s end as it was on Dirk’s. But it was something.

'How did you pull up from the fight?' James asked.

'Got ice where it needed to be, I don't think I even bruised.'

James moved around to be on the same side of the bench as Dirk so that he could examine his nose for bruising. There was none, so far as he could see. Maybe a bit of redness, but that could just as easily be a flush from the warmth of the kitchen. Or James's proximity. Not that he thought he should have that effect on Dirk.

'I was worried I had broken it at first.'

'Never broken a bone before. Got a few scars, though.'

James stopped himself from saying, "I know". He had no legitimate reason to know this. He hadn't actually looked close enough to see them in person when Dirk had taken his shirt off to hold against his bleeding nose.

'What from?' he asked instead.

'Thought it would be cool to teach myself to sword fight. Wanna see?'

James knew he shouldn't. But he nodded.

Dirk pulled up the side of his shirt and twisted in his stool to show a large and rather messy scar across his ribcage. He felt the edges of it with his fingers to confirm he had the right spot.

'This one was the worst for stitches.'

'I imagine they would have made it difficult to move.'

'Yeah, but that's all injuries really. It was the angle of these ones. I'm lucky I'm basically ambidextrous.'

James tore his eyes away from the beginnings of another scar that dipped into Dirk's pants and stared at his eyes. Did he mean what it sounded like?

'You stitched yourself up.'

'That's why it healed so messy, too.'

James felt himself once more overcome by the intense need to look after these foolish boys. He wanted to own Dirk, to make it so that he never hurt himself like that again and if he did, to make it so that he received proper care. He felt possessive on a primal level, where his brain was telling him that the only way to show this was to kiss Dirk, to own him physically so that he would understand that he belonged to James and that he would take care of everything.

James reached out and took Dirk's shirt from his fingers and tugged it down, to remove the temptation. His knuckles brushed warm skin as he did, but he ignored that as much as he could.

'So, we'll do presents right after breakfast,' James said. It was time to close the conversation.

*

The exchanging of gifts went surprisingly well. Bro had made sure that Dave was prepared to see a rich kid level of presents going to John while he only got a couple, but he needn't have worried. Christmas was a lot more about the food in the Egbert house, especially now that John was a bit older and didn't want half the contents of a toy store.

After presents, Mr Egbert ushered everyone into the kitchen to make cookies together. He put on Christmas carols and John waggled his eyebrows at Bro when Bublé came up on the playlist. Naturally he’d feature heavily.

'I'll shave those off while you sleep,' Bro warned.

'That's no way to treat your step-son,' Dave said.

Bro would have punched Dave for that in their own home. At the Egberts, especially considering recent events, he had to settle for glaring.

'What's this?' Mr Egbert said.

'John says you can pull of Bublé. I mean, that you sing ... well.' Bro decided that was the natural end of the sentence and also the natural end of any speaking he might have been planning on doing forever.

'I don't know about that,' Mr Egbert said. 'I suppose we do sing along. They're rather catchy.'

They all lapsed into silence as they decorated their cookies, until the next song came on and Dave said, ' _Merry Christmas, Mr Bublé_ ,' in falsetto along with the girls on the track. John giggled and started singing, which set Dave off as well. It was Dave's hopeful smile that got Bro joining in; he was pretty old hat at singing in front of people thanks to his weekly DJ sets anyway, and Mr Egbert, who had been feeling somewhat self-conscious about living up to John's high praise, couldn't help but start too.

John waggled his eyebrows again. Dirk wondered if swooning would be funny or not. He settled for jabbing John in the side while James's back was turned. John hadn't lied; James had an amazing voice.

*

Christmas dinner was way too big for the four of them, but they made a good attempt at it. Afterwards, with each of them feeling the need to unbutton pants and lay still for the next few days to recover, they moved to the living room to watch yet more Christmas movies.

It turned out that John had saved Die Hard for Christmas day, knowing that this was one of Dirk and Dave's traditions. Dirk left the boys to huddle on the couch together and slumped on the floor where he could stretch his legs out properly, leaning against one of the armchairs.

There was another chair and a couch cushion as well. James ignored these and sat in the chair Dirk was leaning against. Dirk looked up at him. James met his eyes until Dirk turned away again, resettling so that his shoulder was just touching James’s leg.

He almost felt like some kind of pet. That thought should not have made his heart speed up.

James spent over an hour just watching the movie, ignoring the warmth of Dirk’s body against his leg and Dirk followed his lead, not advancing any further. And then, just when Dirk had relaxed and no longer felt like he was dividing his attention between the screen and trying to see every movement James made in his peripherals, James stroked his fingers across the hair sitting just below the band of his hat.

Dirk froze. This wasn’t banter that might be interpreted as flirting, this was an actual move. Or close to one. It was _something_. He glanced at the couch without moving his head to make sure that the boys were still watching the movie.

He took his hat off and ruffled his hair as if it was just because it was getting tight or something. He sat it on the ground next to his hip and shifted just enough that his shoulder was leaning on James’s leg.

It was several minutes before he felt James’s hand on his head again. Dirk swallowed and carefully kept his breathing even and quiet. There was something incredibly erotic about him doing this, especially with Dirk on the floor.

There were a few reasons behind the constant hat wearing, just as there were for the shades, and many of them overlapped. Sun protection, for one. Anonymity and hiding for another. Dirk also genuinely believed that they suited his face and douchey personality. He also cut his own hair and the hats helped him get away with the less than professional evenness. (Somehow it came out too even, with straight lines around his scalp until the hair started to grow in properly.)

Dirk had been putting off cutting his hair, so it was long and a bit tangled. James worked his fingers through it gently. It was a lot curlier than Dave’s (Dave took the time to dry his and had a straightening iron to finish the job while Dirk just shoved it all under his hat) and long enough to fall in his eyes.

At the end of the movie, Dirk shoved his hair back in his hat and stood up.

‘I gotta go to sleep, you fed me too well,’ he said.

John grinned proudly and said good night and Dave gave him a traditional bro-nod, lifting his chin with cool detachment before ruining it by snuggling lower into the mess of blankets he was in. John started the next movie and settled in closer to Dave.

Dirk gave James a small smile that lingered just a bit too long and saluted him with his fingers.

He brushed his teeth carefully before undressing to his underwear and lying on top of his covers. He’d left the door slightly ajar. He didn’t know if James was going to follow him, nor did he know how to make it any clearer that he was absolutely invited to, but he was ready if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dadbert courtesy of the amazing [Mare](https://themidir.tumblr.com), her art is amazing and she deserves all the love in the world. <3


	4. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen the art of Dadbert in chapter 3, you _must_ go back and look at it. If you die from forgetting to breathe, I'm so sorry. Thanks to [Mare](https://themidir.tumblr.com) for the commission, I love you so much. <3

James considered leaving at the same time as Dirk. It probably wouldn’t be that suspicious. But it _felt_ suspicious. He felt rooted in his favourite armchair, stuck for how to proceed. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly at all to follow Dirk to his room. 

Apart from anything else, the way Dirk conducted himself made James think that he was unused to being treated like a partner or equal. James could not in good conscience contribute to that. If he really wanted to pursue Dirk, he should be setting himself at a higher standard. He should romance him exactly because he had not been given a proper romancing in the past.

Of course John and Dave’s friendship complicated things. John had come to James recently and expressed his dismay at the false impression he had given Dave. James admitted that he had assumed the same thing. 

There was nothing wrong with blooming a little late in terms of attraction or even never feeling it at all, and James made sure that John knew this. He would be proud of him no matter who he chose to spend his life with, even if that meant that he was a bachelor in a community of friends who would look after him. All James really wanted was to know that John would have at least one person in his life willing to bring him soup when he was ill and stand by him no matter what. He saw no reason that person needed to be a romantic partner.

It was hard to be too concerned about John and Dave, though. Even if they had been involved, that didn’t negate the fact that James had been attracted to very few people since his wife had passed and even fewer that he had a genuine emotional connection with. 

And one of them was just upstairs. Maybe even waiting for him. James didn’t think that was too much of a stretch. Even if Dirk wasn’t expecting him, James didn’t think he would be disappointed to receive him. If anything, he’d probably be enthused. 

No, he wasn’t going to think about that. It wasn’t relevant. There was no way that James could justify going into the room belonging to his _guest_ and seek out some kind of … entanglement. Especially not with his son and another guest staying here. No, it was morally repugnant. 

Okay, that was settled. 

He hadn’t paid attention to a single minute of the new film that was on, but as far as he could tell it was identical to the previous. There wasn’t any need to continue watching, especially as there was no longer anything for the boys to be suspicious of. 

‘I’m going to turn in, gentlemen,’ James said. ‘Good luck with your continual transition into nocturnal beasts.’

‘Night, Dad!’

‘Damn, I’ve been transitioning all wrong,’ Dave said. ‘I mean dang. I mean … night, Mr E.’

*

timaeusTestified [TT] has begun pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: Hey, Rolal, you up?  
TG: u finally booty callnig me dirky?  
TG: colling*  
TG: calling*  
TG: the rolal charm never fails lmao  
TT: Yeah, shit, that was kind of a booty call line.  
TG: dnot worry babez i kno youre all about the d  
TT: Yeah. Dick’s great.  
TT: Kinda why I’m messaging you.  
TG: wat no waaaaay uv got dickpuritunities rn  
TG: an snice wen do u need my help with it?  
TG: since*  
TT: Since I don’t know if this particular dickpurtunity is an ethical one.  
TT: It’s John’s dad.  
TG: wats the prob? he straight?  
TT: No, he’s Dave’s best friend’s dad.  
TT: I mean, I can’t rule out the possibility that he’s straight I guess.  
TT: Holy shit, I totally forgot that straight people exist for a second there.  
TT: But he’s flirting back, so I don’t think he is.  
TG: dirk its way too chrismtas for this bulslhit  
TG: just hop on the d liek u want  
TT: He’s John’s dad.  
TT: Are you just not reading my responses?  
TG: sned me lics  
TG: send* pics*  
TG: or licks im not fussy mrow ;)  
TT: Oh fuck, I can hear him on the steps.  
TT: Am I a bad Bro if I fuck Dave’s best friend’s dad?  
TG: only if u dont send me pics  
TG: gl baybey  
TT: Rox, no, I need help.  
TG: babez if ur at the point were hearin him on the setps means u gotsta make a call about yes or ro then ur past morality  
TG: fuck the sexy dad  
TT: You’re the worst influence.  
TG: lmao call me with deets 2moro ilyyyyyy

timaeusTestified [TT] has ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

*

On his way to his bedroom, James had to pass by Dirk’s room. The door was slightly open. Was that intentional? He’d kept it shut on all previous occasions that James had seen it. 

He’d just have to poke his head in and ask if Dirk would like him to close the door.

He knocked gently on the wood with the back of his hand before pressing the door open. Oh. Dirk was laying on top of his covers in only a very small pair of black briefs and his shades. _Very_ small. He was using his phone, but he put it down and looked right at James at the sound of his knock. 

‘Um,’ James said. He didn’t think he had said a filler word like that for years. ‘I was wondering if you wanted me to close your door for you.’

Dirk sat up and draped his arm over his knee. It was a calculated pose and it absolutely served the intended purpose of drawing the eye to his groin. James made the effort to look at his face. He was too old to be getting distracted like that.

‘That would be nice. Are you going to join me?’

James hesitated, his hand on the door.

‘I shouldn’t,’ he said.

Dirk took his shades off and placed them on the bedside table next to his phone. He cocked his head to the side. His curls fell out from behind his ear in a move that was far too pretty to be unintentional. James wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed because he knew Dirk was playing with him or because he knew that he must have practiced these moves before.

‘You’re not leaving,’ Dirk observed dryly. 

‘No, it would appear I’m not.’

‘Wanna commit one way or the other, James?’

In fact, James did _not_ want to commit one way or the other. But he also didn’t want one of the boys to walk up the stairs and see him hovering and he wasn’t quite done talking. He stepped inside the room and closed the door.

‘We should talk,’ James said.

Now there was a sentence to ensure Dirk wasn’t going to get an erection for the next five minutes. He rested his chin on his knee and stared at James, letting him take the lead.

‘Our children are downstairs,’ James said.

‘I can be quiet if you can,’ Dirk said. 

James opened his mouth to protest that that wasn’t the point and besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted that, and then closed it. He had other concerns.

‘You deserve better than this,’ he said quietly.

Dirk’s heart stuttered in his chest. He had expected James to bring up the fact that they weren’t alone in the house, that their kids being so close made things complicated, maybe to have issues with Dirk himself. The fact that he was too young, too broke, lived too far away. He hadn’t expected the idea that _Dirk_ was the one that might want more.

‘I really don’t,’ Dirk said.

James finally moved away from the door and sat on Dirk’s bed. He picked up one of Dirk’s hands and held it in both of his. 

‘Yes, you do.’

Dirk’s heart was now pounding faster than usual in his chest. He thought he might be panicking. If James didn’t want to sleep with him, coming at him straight with intimacy was a great way to ensure that. Dirk started to pull his hand away, but James held him firm. 

Okay, might be swinging back into hot again.

‘James, I’m just a dropout from Texas with loose morals and daddy issues, you can skip the wining and dining with me, promise.’

James pulled Dirk’s hand close to his chest.

‘You deserve better than this,’ he repeated.

This time when Dirk pulled away, he meant it. James let him get his hand free and scoot backwards as far as he could while still on the bed. Dirk hated that James could tell how much he was uncomfortable with the situation, hated that he’d ditched his shades and was being so obvious in his reactions, but he couldn’t endure sincerity like that. 

‘What do you want from me?’ he asked.

James watched Dirk carefully. It should be a simple question. James just wasn’t sure he knew the answer.

‘May I take you out for dinner tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Dude, if you want to fuck me, I’m completely on board. I’d suck you off and go wanting with _very_ little convincing. I think I just convinced myself, actually, so that’s properly on the table right now. But I’m not lookin’ for a relationship, that’s ridiculous given our circumstances, so I really don’t see the point in either alertin’ the kids to what’s up or wastin’ emotional energy on somethin’ that ain’t sustainable.’

James had noticed that Dirk’s accent was an effective barometer for his stress level before that moment. Due to the fact that he hadn’t swung back into severly correct enunciation, he decided that he could push just a bit further.

‘Dirk, I like to think of myself as a gentleman. I’d ask you to let me woo you before I make love to you.’

It was lucky that Dirk had already adjusted to James’s fucking insane way of talking. He allowed himself a moment of private freak-out time before he decided that this didn’t need to be as complicated as either of them were making it. He moved across the bed until he was sitting next to James.

‘James …’ he said. ‘You gotta give me somethin’ here. I like you, man. I’m not … I can’t risk Dave freakin’ out if it turns out we have zero chemistry.’

James considered that and found he agreed. But he still wasn’t willing to treat Dirk like some kind of comfort boy. But he wasn’t, really. He was approaching him as someone who wanted to get to know a young man better. The fact that Dirk had slightly unconventional ways of making ends meet had nothing to do with it.

Dirk reached across and touched his fingers to James’s jawline. James leaned into him and Dirk took that as all the invitation he needed to close the distance between them and press their lips together.

James placed his hand on Dirk’s shoulder and guided him closer as he opened his mouth to Dirk’s tongue. Dirk attempted to keep somewhat classy for about a second and a half before he decided he didn’t care about that and moved to straddle James’s lap, not breaking the kiss.

‘Dirk,’ James said, his tone disapproving.

‘James,’ Dirk echoed. His tone was somewhat less disapproving, and he followed it up with another kiss, moving to James’s jaw when he failed to respond with as much enthusiasm as before. ‘C’mon, Sir, you can’t tell me you don’t want this.’

James pulled his hands into fists against Dirk’s back and struggled to contain his frustration. He _did_ want it. That was the whole problem. He wanted to be better than what Dirk was tempting him to be. 

Dirk pulled back and looked at James with those intelligent orange eyes he kept hidden all the time. James let his hands fall to Dirk’s hips and stared at his thumb, stroking Dirk’s skin quite without his permission. 

‘You _can’t_ tell me you don’t want this,’ Dirk repeated. ‘That’s not quite good enough, is it?’

‘I want … to take care of you.’

‘And if I told you that my most pressing need was to have you fuck me?’

James closed his eyes and willed himself to have some self control. He wanted to believe Dirk that he could do that and it be the right choice, that it would give him some physical comfort and convince him that there wasn’t a need to seek it with anyone who wasn’t James. But that was just him choosing the story that got him what he wanted, something he had been quite guilty of when he was younger. Occasionally still now.

‘Right,’ Dirk said. ‘You’d be more comfortable if we went to dinner first.’

Dirk didn’t say that he’d be more comfortable if they fucked first, but he was definitely thinking it. Dinner required a level of eye contact and intimacy that was very intimidating. And conversation. And generally making a good impression without stooping to attributes that Dirk knew were effective; namely, his ass.

This was a pretty long time for Dirk to be sitting on someone’s lap without making out with them, and he was getting self conscious of the weight he was putting on James’s legs, so he went to move. James’s hands tightened on Dirk’s hips. He stayed put. 

‘If I suggested tomorrow, would you think I was being too forward?’ Dirk asked.

James looked pointedly at Dirk’s _tiny_ briefs before he looked back up to his face. 

‘Please, for the love of God, give me a break,’ Dirk said. 

James smiled. Dirk did his best not to melt into a puddle. 

‘Going out tomorrow sounds lovely. Though I will be taking you, despite your beating me to the punch in asking.’

‘Does it make a difference?’ Dirk asked.

‘Yes,’ James said, gravely serious.

‘Well okay then,’ Dirk said. He could take strict direction. 

He still leaned in to get one last kiss before James left for his own room, and _almost_ convinced him to change his mind. James had to listen at the door and then peek out of it before leaving, not so much because being in Dirk’s room was suspicious, but more that there was no way the bulge in his pants was going away while he was anywhere near Dirk, regardless of his decision to respect James’s boundaries. 

Minutes later, Dirk pressed his hand to the wall that separated his room from James’s until he had to shove it in his mouth instead, the desire to let James know that he was thinking of him warring with his inability to make even the smallest noise with Dave in the house.

On the other side of the wall, James couldn’t even make it to his laptop to see Dirk in slightly less clothes than he had just left him. 

*

Dave was sitting on Bro’s bed. It made it hard to get remotely in date mode when he hadn’t been on a date since he’d taken custody of Dave. Fuck, that was depressing. He couldn’t even remember a time before Dave. 

‘Whatchya doin’?’ Dave asked.

Bro didn’t turn from the ironing board where he was very clearly ironing the one button up shirt he had brought. He made a small grunting noise as a response.

‘Yeah, but why?’

‘Mr Egbert’s taking me into Seattle.’

‘Yeah, but why?’

Bro pressed his head into the ironing board and groaned loudly. He kept groaning over Dave calling him a loser and leaving the room. 

*

Mr Egbert sat John down in his study. John looked at him with the wary eyes of a teenager who had done something worth being told off about but who was fairly certain that his father has not picked up on this thing.

‘I am going to take Mr Strider on a date this evening.’

John stared at his dad with horror. 

_’Why?’_

Mr Egbert smiled indulgently. He loved his son a great deal.

‘Because I am romantically interested in him.’

This did not appear to clarify the matter. John now looked revolted as well as confused. 

‘Um, I don’t get it.’

This was why it was important to have honest conversation with children about this sort of thing. Mr Egbert leaned towards John and clasped him on the knee in a reassuring way. John rolled his eyes.

‘There is a considerable age difference, I admit. But we have connected, emotionally, and I have invited him to have a meal with me to find out if this interest extends further.’

‘No, I mean … He’s … him?’

Mr Egbert looked at John sternly. John reassessed his position and found he had no further protests. Except …

‘Are you wearing that?’

Mr Egbert found himself feeling the need to advise everyone in his acquaintance that children were not a mandatory part of the human experience.

*

They were at a fancy restaurant. Fancier than Dirk had been to since he left home. Not the fanciest available, but not far enough away that Dirk felt comfortable that no one would notice that he’d borrowed his younger brother’s tie. He hadn’t thought to bring one himself. He had no idea why Dave had. 

James smiled across the table and Dirk stopped himself from running his fingers through his hair at the last minute by rubbing the back of his neck instead. No hats allowed in here. No shades either. He was just glad that the font on the menu was forgiving enough that he wouldn’t need James to read the items to him.

‘Have you been here before?’ Dirk asked, managing not to grimace at himself. He felt so uncomfortable attempting small talk, he never knew if he was being the right amount of bland. 

‘No, but a colleague recommended it highly,’ James said. In truth, he usually went to pricier places. When he went out for dinner these days, it was usually with other prominent business people. He’d assumed that Dirk would be more comfortable in a more casual setting, though given the way he looked even this cleaned up, James found himself trying to think of an occasion that would necessitate a full suit. 

Now was not the time to be imagining his date in a tailored waistcoat, no matter how nicely it would suit his frame. He took a drink of water to calm himself. 

‘Did he happen to recommend any food as well?’ Dirk asked. 

James looked at the menu instead of Dirk’s chest. Oh, he had possibly been staring. He wondered if explaining that he’d been dressing him up rather than undressing him in his mind would make it less awkward. No, that would be ridiculous.

‘I read a review that said the salmon was good.’

Small talk about food carried them for through the date for 10 minutes, and then Dirk told a story about his aunt’s couscous that extended the conversation another half hour and it wasn’t until they’d poured out the last of the water on the table that they realised that it had been nearly an hour and there was no sign of a waiter.

The table next to theirs had ordered shortly after they had arrived and looked similarly abandoned. Thanks to a later reservation, they were doomed to leaving on empty stomachs unless they were willing to endure the restaurant for eternity. Luckily, Dirk found an alternative that was open late and didn’t require reservations.

James followed Dirk’s instructions as he navigated them through the Seattle streets. He’d never heard of the place before, nor had he gone down this way, but Dirk was an attentive director, always giving him plenty of notice before he needed to turn.

‘Okay, park anywhere along here,’ Dirk said, pointing.

James did so and unbuckled his seat belt, but Dirk put his hand on his and said, ‘Wait, they’re not open yet.’

James looked at his watch.

‘It’s 9:17 in the evening,’ he said. 

‘Yup. They open at half past. Wanna make out til they’re open?’

‘What kind of establishment opens at 9:30 in the evening?’

‘The kind that closes at 7 in the morning,’ Dirk replied. ‘It’s the red building, it says “gravy” on it.’

‘It’s called _Gravy_?’

Dirk shrugs. 

‘What … will it serve? You can’t eat gravy for dinner. Can you?’

‘There’s one of these near the club I work at. And probably in most cities with a half-functioning night-life. They do cheap food that tastes amazing when you’re drunk and okay when you’re sober. It’ll be better now ‘cause it’ll be fresh, but if we were coming in at 2 or something, we’d want to be drunk. Hey, you want to go clubbing after this? I’d love to see you encountering a smoke machine.’

Despite the fact that their date had been derailed at best and ruined at worst, Dirk seemed more comfortable than ever. James had previously gotten the impression that any deviation from plan was stressful to Dirk, but that was certainly not what he was seeing now. 

‘I’m afraid I would only embarrass you,’ James said.

Dirk laughed as if the very notion of that was ridiculous to him, but stopped when James didn’t join in.

‘No,’ he said, with absolute certainty. ‘I’m not saying it’s impossible to embarrass me in a club, because my best friend’s girlfriend absolutely achieved that goal a few years back when she got us all thrown out for pushing me into a fountain, punching a dude we were out with and throwing up on the bouncer who was coming over to her to throw her out, but I feel pretty safe that you’re not gonna do that.

‘We’d just have a drink, maybe dance. Have sex in the bathroom. You know, club stuff.’

Dirk looked at James, at where his thumb was slowly tracing his cuff and at his hesitation, and smiled reassuringly.

‘I’m joking,’ he said, though he absolutely wouldn’t have been if James had been into it. ‘I’m already dragging you enough out of your comfort zone here. They’re probably open now, do you want to go in?’

Before Dave had come to live with him, back when he thought he didn’t have time to date because he was studying, Dirk had gone out a couple of times with older guys. He preferred to keep it direct and to the point, and so did the guys he dated. Hooked up with, would probably be the more accurate term.

He liked going to their places, apartments and houses that were owned by guys who were already set up, who had cash enough to think they deserved an 18 year old lay and were willing to let him take full advantage of their expensive anti-aging lotion afterwards. 

The thing about having two jobs and a kid was that the second Dirk was free, he was usually worrying about what he should be doing next and he was constantly six items behind on his to-do list. Even if he managed to make getting laid his focus long enough to get taken home, the second he wasn’t stupid with horniness he was regretting the time wasted by not just doing it at the club and was already out the door with his pants half on. This was the first real holiday he’d had in years. There was something to be said for going someplace where your kid was way too interested in his friend to need any kind of assistance or entertainment. 

The point was, it had been a while. It had been a never, really, this was a pretty unique point in Dirk’s life, but it was good. And it felt even better to be the one fixing the date, finding the solution. Doing that had always made Dirk feel more comfortable in his skin.

They walked into the restaurant (which was only owed the title of "restaurant" by the same allowance that fast food places were given them) and Dirk gestured to a seat for James to take before walking up to the counter to order. 

The food was a bit different from Dirk’s version back home, being in another state with different standards for drunk food, but it was still pretty traditional comfort food. He ordered way too much. It still cost less than an entree at the restaurant they’d just left. 

Dirk took two beers in plastic cups back to the table and handed one to James as he sat down. He raised it somewhat ironically and James stared for a moment before copying.

‘Did you go out clubbing, before John?’ Dirk asked.

‘That’s how I met my wife,’ James said.

‘Is it weird if I ask for the story?’

‘I have no idea. Maybe to others. I’m happy to tell, if you’re happy to hear.’

The waiter chose that moment to drop off their food. There was probably enough to feed four more men, but Dirk had wanted a selection. He pulled the mac and cheese towards himself and nodded.

‘I suppose it was more of a lounge than a club, though it was _called_ a club. _The Ace of Spades_. My wife was a waitress there on weekends, she was studying to be a nurse. She was the worst waitress I’ve ever seen in my life. If my glass was dirty, and it often was, she’d clean it with the bottom of her shirt. But her smile when she did … John inherited it from her, it’s very difficult to be mad at someone who smiles like that. 

‘The food was atrocious as well, always burnt and late, even when the club was empty, and there wasn’t a single chair in there that didn’t wobble at least a little. The music was good and the drinks were cheap, but I went back for her. I was so afraid of ruining the best part of my week that I never asked her out. In the end, she told me that I was picking her up from her parent’s house and taking her to a movie, and to make sure to look her father in the eye or he wouldn’t be impressed with me.’

James smiled at the memory. He took a dim sim without thinking about it and found that it wasn’t the worst one he’d ever had. 

‘That’s cute as hell,’ Dirk said. ‘How long …’

‘Just over ten years.’

‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Me too.’

If Dirk had thought about it before the subject had come up, putting a personality to James’s dead wife should have made him more aware that she was a real person who he couldn’t hope to replace. But strangely, it felt good to clear the air, to acknowledge that she’d existed and to feel included in something important to James’s past. 

‘How about you tell me something about yourself?’ James said, reaching for a slice of pizza and allowing the seriousness to pass. 

Before James had told his story, Dirk would have deflected with any number of impersonal anecdotes. He was a fairly private person. But he felt he owed something like honesty now. 

‘I’m a bit torn between lightening the mood and wanting to return some of that trust,’ Dirk said. ‘But then, I don’t want to turn your story into a competition.’

‘That’s a lot to consider. I didn’t mean for it to be a difficult prompt. I’d just like to know more about you.’

Yeah, Dirk did overthink shit like that. All the time. It was a huge reason as to why he rarely felt comfortable with people in positions of authority over him. Or people in general, outside Dave and his few close friends. 

‘I’ll make it easier,’ James said, smiling. ‘If money wasn’t an object, how would you spend your days?’

‘Oh,’ Dirk said. Fuck, that was a hard question. ‘I guess I’d go back to college. Definitely stop bartending, don’t think I’d bother with my apprenticeship anymore either. Cars are sweet, but most jobs are one of five things and it’s not as fun as you’d think bumping out dents.’

‘What were you studying?’

‘Engineering. I used to want to work with robots, but I found a course that let me take a few completely unrelated subjects too. Philosophy, even though that turned out to be more “how to structure a debate” than “the meaning of life”, adaptations, like taking a book or comic or whatever and making it into a movie. Wasn’t a class, but my friend who was doing acting got me to help out in the sound and lighting booth, that was awesome, I’d love to learn how to do that properly. The shit I do at the club is all from my laptop, but that was old school.’

Dirk’s ears caught up to his mouth and he realised that he was almost sounding enthusiastic. But money _was_ an issue, he’d never be able to go back, it’d be hard enough to find the cash to send Dave to college. He took a samosa and put the whole thing in his mouth, not wanting to even be able to talk anymore.

James noticed the abrupt change in Dirk’s energy, and at first wondered if he’d accidentally reminded him of a bad memory. Then he realised that he’d asked someone what he’d do if money wasn’t an object and he’d described an education, not a tropical island, and that it must seem unreachable to a man who had to sell the promise of his body to afford Christmas presents.

‘What do you think this is?’ James asked, holding up a fried something or other. 

Dirk took it from James, bit it and handed it back. 

‘Deep fried pumpkin.’

This was the strangest first date James had ever heard of. He liked it.

On the drive home, James struggled to pay attention to their conversation while he also tried to come up with a plan to give Dirk enough money to pay for his college without him rejecting it. 

There was also the other distraction of Dirk’s hand on his knee. 

And driving, of course. He was a very attentive driver. Dear God, Dirk’s finger tracing his inseam was distracting. 

When they pulled into the driveway, they both hesitated in the car. 

‘I would bet the entire contents of my bank account that Dave is waiting up to ambush me,’ Dirk said. 

‘Dating as a parent is full of little joys,’ James said. 

‘So I think we’ve got approximately 30 seconds before they get suspicious about how long we’re lingering in the car.’

Dirk elected not to waste any more of their time by talking, and instead leaned in to kiss James. Perhaps it was the assurance that he didn’t have enough time to take this any farther or the increased closeness he felt, but James responded more enthusiastically than he had so far, reaching for Dirk’s tie and pulling him closer so that he could kiss him properly. 

Dirk made a small, encouraging moan and shifted as close as the console would allow. 

The porch light switched on just as Dirk was wondering if it was worth attempting to convince James to take the car to a poorly lit park, recline the seat and let him wriggle all over him like a motherfucking salmon. He assumed he would have thought of a better way to phrase that if they weren’t being pointedly interrupted.

‘We should go inside,’ Dirk mumbled against James’s lips.

‘No.’

James gripped Dirk’s shirt tightly and kept kissing him. Dirk’s stomach flipped and he kissed him harder. 

The light started flicking on and off. James released Dirk’s shirt and sighed.

‘Okay.’ He kissed Dirk one last time. ‘I had a nice night.’ Okay, actually the last kiss.

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dirk said.

The sprinklers turned on. James rolled his eyes.

‘Next time we do the goodnight kiss when we get into the car,’ Dirk said.

‘Excellent suggestion.’

James cupped Dirk’s cheek as he kissed him for what was definitely the last time for the night. 

Dirk ended up being the one who had to pull away.


	5. Love

The questions put to them after the date by Dave and John were easily avoided by Mr Egbert saying firmly that it was late and they should all be in bed. Dirk stood straight-backed with his hands clasped in front of him, his expression blank and his mouth shut so he wouldn't say anything inappropriate in front of the kids.

He desperately wanted to kiss James one last time, but Dave lingered just as long as he did and he ended up just going to bed rather than making a scene.

The next morning proved more difficult.

Dave and John cornered Bro first. They were waiting for him when he finished his morning run. It was slightly longer than usual; running had always made his thoughts slow to match his body's rhythm and he had plenty to think through. Mostly he’d used the time to get used to the idea that he liked someone who liked him back.

When he saw John perched on the porch wall and Dave slouched next to him, Bro nearly ran straight past the house to turn his six mile run into an all-the-way-back-to-Houston run. But he slowed and walked past them to the backyard, suspicions confirmed when he heard them following.

'So, how was the date?’ John asked.

'Shit, you don't do foreplay, do you Egbert?’ Dave said. 'Maybe I'm glad you shot me down.’

Bro ignored them and grabbed his foot behind him, pressing his ankle to his ass to stretch out his quads. 

'But really, how was it?’ Dave asked.

Bro dropped his foot and picked up the other one. He focused on counting the seconds he needed to hold it instead of his company.

'Broooo,’ John weedled. 'You can't just tell us you're going on a date and not tell us anything else! Are you a couple now? Did you kiss? Do you still live in Texas?’

'You get laid?’

Bro dropped his foot and turned to face Dave square on. His face was carefully blank, his posture loose. 

‘2nd grade camp story locked and loaded, dude. Think ‘cause I’m not gonna beat down on you up here I’m gonna put up with your shit?’

Dave paled and took a step back.

‘Let’s go ask your dad,’ Dave said, pulling John’s arm urgently away from Bro. Damn, he sure didn’t pull his punches.

Mr Egbert had a slightly different approach to evading the kids. He left the house. 

He spent the morning running errands and then when he pulled the car back into the driveway and saw Dave and John waiting for him, he greeted them cheerily. 

‘Boys! I wasn’t sure if you’d be in the house. I’ve got a long list of chores I want to accomplish before New Years, would you like to help me?’

John and Dave leaned into each other and had a whispered discussion of whether gaining intel was worth having to clean things. They decided it was not.

‘Can’t, sorry Dad! I promised Dave I’d show him …’

‘The neighbourhood. Uh, so I can picture where things are when he tells me about them.’

Mr Egbert smiled as they walked away. They sure were walking fast for such casual plans. He’d been prepared to set them up coincidentally on the other side of the house from him, but he didn’t mind losing the manpower. 

*

Dirk wasn’t _avoiding_ James by any stretch of the imagination. He just had no idea what the protocol was for seeing someone after a date when a second date hadn’t been scheduled and they were staying in the same house. He wanted the protocol to be _how convenient it is that there is a bedroom right here_ but he had a suspicion that was not how it actually went. 

Texting Roxy was useless, she just told him to “accidentally” walk in on James in the shower with his phone on video so that she could see what he was dealing with. Two girlfriends and she still had enough horny leftover to make Dirk feel like just grabbing James by that tie and pulling him into his bedroom as he walked past was the tame option. 

So he kept to his room and watched anime so he didn’t do anything stupid, glad that at the very least he seemed to have scared Dave off from asking shit he didn’t know the answer to. And then that seemed pretty cowardly on top of being rude, so when it became evening and he had procrastinated long enough, he went down to help James cook, as much as he ever could be said to be a help in the kitchen.

James smiled in welcome when Dirk entered the room and Dirk leaned into the doorframe in an only slightly exaggerated swoon. Those kind, blue eyes would absolutely be the death of him.

He peeled vegetables and stood close to James and found himself smiling almost constantly without thinking about it. They talked about musicals and disagreed over their favourites in such a flirty way that when they heard footsteps on the stairs they both shut up immediately before sharing a private smile acknowledging how ridiculous that was.

In the end, it might have been easier for the adults to have answered the boys’ questions in the morning, because the alternative presented itself at dinner.

When all four of them were at the table, there was a long pause while they concentrated on eating, and while it was definitely the best salad that Dirk had ever had, it probably didn’t deserve total silence.

John, naturally, broke it.

‘So, are you guys like, dating now?’

Dirk elected to believe that was targeted towards the kid’s father and shoved more lettuce in his mouth.

‘We have dated,’ Mr Egbert said, his voice careful and mild.

‘Yeah, you told me you were going to and then you left the house and then you came back, I figured out that that meant you had dated, I'm not _that_ dumb, God.’

Dirk found his eyebrow raising and brought that shit under control. He was operating under the often disproven theory that if he was quiet, expressionless and still making food eating movements, he would fade into the background. It hadn't been a very successful theory at his parents’ house either.

'Yes, well, I'd say we had a nice time and that the endeavour shows promise, wouldn't you, Dirk?’

Dirk made a noise that was one step above a grunt and gestured apologetically to his full mouth.

'Yeah, emotions aren't Bro's strong point, Mr E. He taught that dude from _How I Met Your Mother_ how to have commitment issues.’

Dirk made a vaguely protesting noise, still feigning a mouthful of lettuce.

‘I mean,’ Dave said, picking up on something on Bro's face and backpedaling, ‘he’s good, obviously. Uh, prime boytoy—I mean boyfriend! Prime boyfriend material. Like, you just know you want to make a scarf, maybe a sweater outta him, the material is that choice. He's got crazy redeeming features y'know, once you get past … which you have! Obviously! If you want to date him you've gotten past …’

Bro found that letting Dave’s mouth run wild was suddenly not offering the usual benefits. Or, it was, it was plenty distracting, but it wasn’t exactly flattering. Maybe not worth the protection from having to talk himself.

‘Thanks, kid,’ he said. ‘Yeah, we … went on a date.’

John gave him a look. Bro’s fork refused to pick up more salad and he’d failed to adequately pass the conversational baton on, so he made another attempt.

‘It was good,’ he said lamely.

‘But you live in Texas!’ John said. 

Dirk and James met each other’s eyes briefly over the table for a second, far too quick to for either of them to know what the other was thinking. Even if they had have been granted the ability to read minds at that moment, all they would have gotten would have been _What is he thinking?_

John was still looking at Bro, waiting for an answer.

‘Howdy,’ Bro said.

John sighed and looked plaintively at his dad. 

‘It’s too early to concern ourselves with that,’ Mr Egbert said. ‘One of the reasons we went on the date was because that concern would be irrelevant if we didn’t enjoy each other’s company.’

‘But you did!’

‘And now it’s slightly more relevant. But it’s still too soon.’

There was a pause while the table collectively digested that. The remaining week they had left before the Striders’ flight rested uncomfortably on top of them. 

‘So, this is weird, right?’ Dave said. ‘Like, you don’t date. That’s not a thing I’ve ever seen you do. Wait, are you dating on the D-L? No, that’s not my point. ‘Cause like, obviously you never got to the point where you felt the need to include me in it and so whatever, musta been super D-L if it even existed, which doesn’t count, right? And anyway, I mean, it’s weird that the first dude you’re dating since, uh, me, is my best friend’s dad. Who lives a billion miles away. And you don’t date either, Mr E, John said. So, it’s like … what gives? Why choose the hard option when there are obviously honeys back home, you’re both … like you’re not unattractive dudes, don’t make it weird, it’s just a legit observation, you’re don’t look like guys who’d hurt for it, Bro’s a weirdo but like someone’s gotta dig that, right?’

Mr Egbert turned to Bro for clarification on what all that meant. He could follow it enough to get that Dave was asking _why?_ , but it was hard to imagine that was all it was when it was wrapped in that many words. For a moment, Mr Egbert entertained the notion that the Striders were given a set amount of words between them and Dave ran through the lion’s share before breakfast and Bro had to make do with the leftovers. 

‘This is why I was in favour of lying,’ Bro grumbled. ‘Can you step off, kid?’

Dave’s brow crinkled slightly and Bro sat up straighter, already correcting for his blunder.

‘Not like I could’ve, ‘cause you’d pick up on it in seconds, but we don’t know shit here. You’re askin’ things we probably shoulda asked each other but who wants that kind of date, all talkin’ serious about why you shouldn’t be dating, not like that would’a given us any kind of fair data, ‘cause I would’a run if that’s what I thought dating was like, then we wouldn’t be here having this excruciating conversation. 

‘And shit, kid, you’re right. I haven’t dated, certainly haven’t been bringin’ boys home to meet the Dave, no one’s been worth a second glance. Maybe that’s ‘cause I don’t take the time off and I am now or maybe that’s ‘cause this is special and I definitely don’t wanna look into it too much but it’s a risk-reward sitch, okay? 

‘Say a dude comes in with a car that can’t start, I’mma check he hasn’t shoved somethin’ in the ignition before I go replacin’ engines, right? Rule out the low cost shit before we get to worst case scenario and I guess worst case scenario in this example is actually best case scenario, but we work up to whether maximum effort is needed because if it turned out James wasn’t right on the first date then cool, get that shit out of the ignition and hand him back, no hard feelings. We’re not lookin’ up fuckin’ Washington real estate or whatever it is that you nerds are jumpin’ on before we do those checks, ‘kay?’

‘Oh my God, record obliterated,’ John breathed.

‘What?’

‘John’d never heard you say more than nine words in a row,’ Dave explained. 

Dirk rolled his eyes and then looked at James for the first time since his speech. James smiled, his eyes unspeakably fond, and reached to pat Dirk’s wrist gently. He left his fingers across Dirk’s pulse point.

‘I have no experience with servicing vehicles, but I agree,’ James said. ‘Do you have other questions?’

Dirk managed to keep his inward groan at James inviting further discussion repressed and reverted back to sitting still, caught between wanting to turn his arm over and hold hands with James like a sap and not wanting to give any indication that he enjoyed touching him at the dinner table.

John and Dave looked at each other, and started some kind of silent communication based predominantly on eyebrow acrobatics. John scrunched up his face and Dave raised an eyebrow, then John poked his tongue out and Dave somehow isolated his second eyebrow upwards as well. 

‘Are you gonna go on another date?’ John asked, after almost a full minute of this.

‘Yes,’ James said, with a calm confidence that made Dirk’s heart speed in anticipation and nerves.

‘Can Dave and I go to a party on New Years?’

James looked at Dirk questioningly.

‘I don’t care,’ Dirk said.

James turned back to John.

‘No drinking,’ he said sternly. 

‘It’s not even that kind of party,’ John said, as if the very suggestion was ridiculous and his dad was stupid for thinking it might be. 

Dirk was impressed at the perfect delivery. He probably didn’t cover that well when he went to parties when he still lived with his parents.

‘Seriously,’ Dirk said, looking at Dave. 

Dave nodded. Considering he was protective of his friends to a fault, Dirk thought he’d do okay. 

‘Okay, cool!’ John said. ‘Can we leave the table?’

‘Good God, yes,’ Dirk said. 

The boys all but ran away from the kitchen, and Dirk finally turned his hand over and moved it slightly until his fingers were wrapped around James’s.

‘Would it be terribly ironic for me to say that I need a drink after that?’ James asked.

‘I’ve always been a fan of irony.’

*

They went on another date. And another. On their third date, James got Dirk talking about his half-finished (okay, maybe 10% finished) robot for an hour while he watched and smiled, completely smitten from seeing him enthused. Dirk realised he was dominating the conversation and ducked his head, embarrassed. James had no choice but to kiss him silly. 

On New Years Eve, Dave and John left the house to walk to their party and left Dirk and James alone in the house for the first time since they’d started dating.

They both lingered awkwardly at the doorway after they waved goodbye to the kids. And then James found Dirk’s hand and pulled him slowly back inside and to his study. It seemed like a good, neutral setting. Dirk took the seat he had sat in when James had performed his magic tricks and James drew his chair close enough that their knees were almost touching.

‘So,’ Dirk said, with a small smile that definitely meant trouble.

‘I have to tell you something,’ James said. The seriousness in his tone effectively killed Dirk’s opening and had him making the effort not to panic.

‘Your wife’s not really dead, she’s right behind me,’ Dirk guessed, wildly. 

James laughed under his breath. Dirk breathed out carefully, having realised immediately after saying that that it wasn’t exactly most people’s humour to joke about dead spouses. 

‘No. I think I’ll spare us both further preamble and just …’ James breathed, and Dirk did not. ‘I know about your Patron.’

'Patreon,’ Dirk corrected automatically. Then what James was saying actually hit him. 'Oh shit, how? Oh, John …’

'John knows about your Patron?’

‘ _Patreon_ , and no, I hope not, he'd have to pass like three, “No, for real, are you 18 though?” style blocks and kid seemed pretty genuinely disinterested in that shit, but Dave told him our old last name and …’

James held his hands up. and Dirk stopped.

'It was open on your laptop.’

'Oh.’

Wait. The only time James had access to Dirk’s laptop was when he moved it back to his room before Christmas. Before they started dating. Fuck, that actually hurt Dirk more than it probably should have. So much for his thick skin.

'Are you just with me 'cause you think sex workers put out?’ Dirk asked.

'Dirk, the fact that you're willing to make love to me has nothing to do with your occupation. Nor does my own …’

'Willingness?’ 

'I dare say it goes several steps past willingness,’ James said, smiling gently. 'I promise I haven’t been stringing you on. I just wanted to let you know. Before.’

Dirk tilted his head to the side and smiled wryly.

‘You think you’re getting lucky tonight?’

James’s eyes widened in chagrin. He hadn’t meant to presume … Just that only yesterday Dirk had cornered James washing his car and convinced him to take a break pressed against the wall of the house and had very nearly gotten James out of his shirt in the process and now the boys were gone and …

‘Yeah, I’m not actually gonna hold out on you. Can you imagine?’ Dirk grinned reassuringly. He couldn’t have hard feelings about this. He had worked hard to be okay with who he was and what he did. At least this saved him from having to have an awkward conversation revealing his work to James if things kept getting serious. ‘You really didn’t mean any harm by looking?’

‘None at all,’ James promised.

‘And you don’t care that I do it?’

James’s face barely moved, but it wasn’t an automatic denial and Dirk was suddenly faced with the realisation that their first night alone in a house without their kids was going to be full of talking about their feelings. 

‘I hesitate to say I don’t care,’ James said. ‘I do care. I wish you were not in the position where you need to do it.’

‘If it were just a hobby would you care?’

James frowned as he considered. He held up his hand to stop Dirk from filling the silence with more words.

‘I haven’t thought about it that way, give me a moment.’

James hadn’t been around anyone who would view taking photographs of themself naked and posting them online as a hobby before. He wasn’t sure he was around one now. He thought it was very likely that Dirk was testing the boundaries, trying to find out if James was the kind of lover who thought he was entitled to veto rights over his partner’s hobbies. Or maybe who thought he was entitled to complete exclusivity. 

It was distracting trying to think about all that while Dirk bounced his leg, a habit that seemed to come up when he was nervous or excited or just hadn’t gone for a run that day. James put his hand on Dirk’s knee to still it.

‘I think I would still care. But only because you are not respected as much as you should be on your …’ he hesitated, trying to remember how Dirk had corrected him over the version in his head and realised he had no idea which was which and instead said, ‘site.’

‘So if I was sending dick pics to my friends who were all very body positive and complimented me on my lighting choices?’

‘I would still care. But I wouldn’t mind.’

Okay, Dirk could live with that. Especially seeing as while James had been making up his mind, he’d realised that he’d probably be a little bit offended if he didn’t care at all.

‘Um … we’re talking like this is going to last beyond the next four days,’ Dirk pointed out. 

‘Yes,’ James said.

‘Cool.’

‘Does that scare you?’

‘Yep.’

Dirk laughed at his own ridiculous honesty. It was scary though. It was fucking terrifying that he could even admit that he was scared to a guy he was seeing. Emotional honesty? Was that some kind of cocktail?

James stroked his thumb against Dirk’s knee reassuringly.

‘Me too. I can’t seem to bring myself to care about any objections my brain comes up with.’

‘Right? The con list is ridiculously long, doesn’t look that way at first ‘cause we’ve got it pretty nicely rolled up, but then the dude in the puffy pants shakes it out and it rolls out the damn door like it’s a red carpet for a couple of idiots to walk down, oblivious to the ridiculousness of the institution.’

‘I will say, the pro list isn’t anything to scoff at either.’

Dirk laughed again.

‘I’m serious,’ James said, smiling. ‘Your laugh is quite high on it. Under a sub-category of your voice, that’s definitely on the pro list. I’m quite attached to this thing you do when I’ve embarrassed you, where you look down with your whole head as if that is somehow hiding.’

James moved to the edge of his chair so that he could stroke along Dirk’s cheekbone. He lingered for a moment before dropping his hand. Dirk caught it and lifted it back up to hold his palm back against his cheek. 

‘Your hands would be on the list too,’ Dirk said. ‘I like watching you make things.’

‘I like your attention.’

‘Damn, James, you’ve got it.’

They moved together a bit fast at first, and knocked knees before they smiled and slowed down. James guided Dirk’s face towards him until their lips met.

They’d kissed a number of times since Christmas. Dirk occasionally snuck up on James and kissed him like he was trying to get in his pants, only to leave just as James’s resolve was weakening. James pecked Dirk on the cheek as they passed each other in the kitchen. Once James had played the piano while Dirk rested his lips on the crown of James’s head as he watched his fingers move over the keys, too fast to be planned consciously, moving under the guidance of years of muscle memory. 

None of their previous kisses had felt like this. Like the emotional weight of the conversation was still present in their lips. 

Dirk broke the kiss and loosened his grip on James’s arm. 

‘Bed,’ Dirk said. ‘Now, before you get me worked up and I insist we get it on in your study like idiots.’

*

They went to Dirk’s room because he opened his door while James was still looking at his. Dirk took hold of James’s tie and backed back with James in forced proximity until his legs hit the bed. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, his hat falling with it.

James could sometimes forget what kind of shape Dirk was in. He related to him in such an easy way, sometimes he thought of him as a peer. But this was the body of a man in his 20s who was obsessive about the shape he kept in. And it paid off. 

James stroked down the defined line of Dirk’s abdomen, over a scar that stretched across his muscles. He was extraordinary. James looked back up to Dirk’s face and found that Dirk was smirking at his rather overt reaction.

‘If you like that, just wait ‘til I take my pants off,’ he said.

James pushed him onto the bed, utterly failing to suppress his smile. He unfastened his tie and let it drop next to Dirk’s shirt. He was beyond folding by this point. 

Dirk tossed his shades to land on his bag safely and leaned on his forearms to watch James unbutton his shirt. He hadn’t caught more than the slightest impression of James’s chest from quick gropes but he was strong enough to throw him around in a fight and Dirk couldn’t wait to see how that translated in the bedroom. 

The look that Dirk was giving James was very flattering. His golden eyes were following James’s hands as they moved down his buttons with that laser focus that James liked so much. James had to stop watching Dirk watching him when it came to his cuffs, but he could still _feel_ his attention like it was a physical thing.

‘I want you to choke me out with your forearms,’ Dirk said. ‘Damn, James.’

James paused, his shirt hanging off his biceps and looked at Dirk skeptically. He had no idea if he was serious or if this was one of those youthful hyperboles. In Dirk’s case, it very well could have been both.

‘You are a very unusual young man.’

‘Yeah, for sure, but not for that. I could post a pic of just your arm on my site and rake it in, no nudity required.’

James raised his eyebrow and said, ‘Should I leave my pants on, then?’

Dirk smiled and sat up to take James’s belt in his hands. He moved with fast confidence, and looked up at James as he slid the leather through the loops. His chest was closer to James’s crotch than his face, but the pose was still evocative. James was sure Dirk would be willing to do more than allude to the position, and it was very tempting to see if he was right, but he had other priorities.

Dirk folded James’s belt in half and playfully tapped it against the back of James’s thigh before he dropped it to the growing pile of clothes and set to work on his pants’ buttons. He leaned in to kiss James’s stomach as he slowly unzipped his pants. 

Dirk dropped James’s pants and left him to step out of them as he got his hands on James’s ass. There was a very promising bulge at the front of his briefs, but Dirk had a feeling James would rather he work up to it rather than just speed his way through to getting his mouth on his cock as soon as possible. 

His ass was definitely worth being distracted by in any case, and Dirk kneaded at it like a cat as he kissed down his treasure trail. He almost wanted to turn James around so that he could bite him right on his lovely cheeks, but the soft skin just above his hips wasn’t worth abandoning. 

‘Dirk,’ James said, stroking gently at Dirk’s hair to get his attention. 

Dirk looked up and licked his lips. 

‘Back on the bed, please.’

Dirk considered being a brat about it for a split second, but that was something to play with another time, when he wasn’t quite so desperate for James’s approval. He shifted back until he was in the centre of the bed, and let James push him down with a firm hand on the chest until he was lying on his back. 

James undid Dirk’s jeans and Dirk lifted his hips so he could take them off. His briefs were tighter, shorter and a squarer cut than James’s, one of the few splurges that Dirk indulged in seeing as people liked watching him take them off. James ran his thumb over the hem line, so high up on Dirk’s thigh and watched Dirk’s chest stumble over a shaky breath. 

‘I have, um, lube and condoms. In my bag.’

James hesitated, not wanting to stop touching Dirk. But his reluctance now would not be comparable to how he would feel later. He left Dirk, who obediently stayed put, and brought the things back to the bed. 

‘What do you want?’ Dirk asked.

‘I want you to let me spoil you.’

Dirk’s breath caught again. 

'That's not … You gotta let me even this exchange out. This is where I show what I bring to the table, James.’

James frowned as he climbed onto the bed. He moved until he was kneeling close to Dirk and stroked his hair back.

‘I would like to hunt down every last person who has made you feel that way and express my sincere disappointment with them, preferably with my fists.’

Dirk couldn’t face such sincerity head on. He looked at the corner of the bed instead. 

‘Instead, I’ll just have to show you different.’

James let himself fall onto his hands next to Dirk’s head and leaned down to kiss him. 

Dirk immediately reached up to hold James’s neck as he kissed back. His throat felt thick with emotion, and he wasn’t really sure what kind. He should have been feeling a lot more turned on than he was, he’d been looking forward to this for over a week and James was hot as fuck. But he felt thrown by his lack of control, by feeling like he wasn’t sure what his role was. He didn’t know how to act if he wasn’t focused on making James feel good.

James stroked up Dirk’s arm and neck and Dirk felt himself lifting slightly into his touch. James wasn’t asking for much. Just for Dirk to relax. He could do that. (First time for everything.)

James’s fingers stroked lightly against Dirk’s throat and he shivered. James took Dirk’s chin and guided him to the side so he could kiss along his jaw and to his neck. Dirk swallowed and tried to tilt his head more, but James held him firmly for a moment before taking control of the movement himself. 

James kissed down to Dirk’s collarbone and then his chest. He released his grip on his chin so he could stroke down his body instead and hook his fingers in his briefs. It would be easy to pull them off completely, but it was more entertaining to leave them be for now and feel the way Dirk’s hips lifted in anticipation. James let the side of his hand brush against Dirk’s growing hardness as if on accident.

‘Fuck,’ Dirk breathed. 

‘I don’t think that kind of language is necessary,’ James said, looking up from his vantage point near the base of his ribs.

‘James, I can be good to a point but if you think I can avoid saying “fuck” when—’

James brought his palm down on Dirk’s ass, hard. Dirk tensed underneath him for an instant and grunted before quieting. 

‘Oh,’ James said. ‘No, that was—I _am_ sorry, that was not an appropriate response.’

Dirk stared at him for a moment to process all his dreams coming true before shaking his head quickly.

‘No, message received, consent given, I am f—absolutely okay with that, hands are a-okay, no more swearing.’

James raised his eyebrow. Dirk hesitated for a moment before continuing his assurances.

‘I’m really, really, really, enthusiastically okay with spanking,’ he said. ‘And also in you telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m good. I can be good. Evidence just down and to your right could not be harder.’

James looked where he was instructed and considered the possibility that Dirk was rather tragically in need of an authority figure. In need of someone to make him still like this, to know where he stands and to look after him. In need of a strong hand. And Dirk seemed to agree.

‘You won’t need me to do it again, will you?’ James asked.

Dirk bit down a swear. 

‘No, sir,’ he said instead.

James kissed Dirk’s stomach in reward and shifted lower again. This time, when Dirk thrusted up and into James’s wrist, he let out a low moan instead of cursing and James kissed him lower again. He was now level with Dirk’s belly button. 

‘That’s my good boy,’ James said, stroking down Dirk’s side. He reached the waistband of his briefs again and tugged on them lightly enough just to drag the fabric teasingly against him, to pull his underwear down and let his cock free.

Dirk started to shift his legs, to try and help get his briefs off, but James pressed a hand to his hip and stilled him. The elastic would keep him almost bound, because if Dirk moved too much it would slide back up. 

James looked up at Dirk so he could watch his reaction as he took his cock in hand and stroked it. Dirk tipped his chin up and completely silently mouthed _fuck_ to the ceiling. James considered letting him get away with it for a moment before he brought his hand down again. Dirk’s cock jumped in James’s hand as he tensed in response. 

‘You’re really gonna test my staying power,’ Dirk groaned.

James smiled in approval before returning his focus to the matter at hand. He bent his head to take Dirk’s cock in his mouth and sucked gently on the tip. Dirk groaned, but kept his noise illiterate so James continued. 

Dirk found himself feeling better than he had during sex for a long while. He dealt with his crushing doubts about not being good enough by giving as much as he could, trying to outperform his anxiety and let the encouragement from his partner soothe his nerves, but it never really worked. He felt tense, guilty for even having the space to think about sex when there were more important things and sure that whatever dude he was banging would have preferred someone with less fucking baggage. 

Not only was James’s mouth climbing up the ranks to gain the title of best place Dirk’s cock had ever been, he had also taken control in such a reassuring way that Dirk _knew_ he wasn’t just playing along with this. James wanted to be there, and anything that Dirk did that even slightly marred his pleasure, James wouldn’t hesitate to put a stop to it. It was incredibly freeing.

James licked his way down Dirk’s cock like it was a particularly special treat, before letting his lips slide around it again. Dirk’s thighs occasionally tensed like he wanted to buck up into James’s mouth, but he kept still. James could see Dirk’s fingers digging into the sheets to vent some of his feelings, but the biggest indication so far was his breathing, which was coming out in increasingly broken pants.

It was satisfaction itself to see him coming apart so easily. James wondered how many times Dirk had even been on the receiving end of this kind of pleasure and was glad that he felt up to the task of making it a memorable occasion. 

He worked his way to a rhythm and was rewarded by Dirk gasping audibly. He worked the base of the cock with his hand to continue the sensation all the way down.

‘Oh … my-God,’ Dirk moaned. 

The heavy pressure of Dirk’s cock on James’s tongue felt almost as good as the bone-deep triumph that James felt knowing that he was making him feel good, that he was looking after him in a way that he had been _aching_ to almost since they met. He moved his head faster, drawing on everything he knew to give Dirk more. 

‘James,’ Dirk whined helplessly. ‘Oh ffff—oh _God_ , so good.’

James pulled off with a wet noise so that he could pull Dirk’s briefs down to his mid-thigh. He kissed his hip before pulling on it to get Dirk to turn over. He did as he was guided and looked over his shoulder to watch James take the lube and dribble some onto his fingers. 

James smiled at him as he brought his fingers down to his asshole and started to circle it gently. He had to pull his cheeks apart to access it; Dirk’s thighs were still pinned together. Dirk barely resisted the urge to squirm, and swore into the sheets instead, earning himself another slap to his ass. 

James slipped his first finger shallowly into Dirk’s hole and this time Dirk couldn’t keep still, he pressed back desperately to take it deeper until he felt his briefs start to slide up and forced himself to relax against the bed again. 

‘Patience, Dirk,’ James said.

‘Don’t have any,’ Dirk groaned. ‘Don’t need to go that slow, I can take it— _ohh FUCK_.’

James was starting to doubt the truth in Dirk’s statement only a week ago that he could be quiet if necessary. He brought his hand down on his increasingly pink ass without removing the finger that he’d pressed as deep as he could while Dirk was speaking. Dirk whimpered something that sounded a lot like, ‘oh God, yes,’ and released the sheets with one hand so he could bite on it instead. 

James wanted very badly to take his time, to all but worship Dirk for hours if they could both stand it, but he was only human and he was struggling with containing his own arousal. It wasn’t enough that Dirk was even more handsome in the flesh than he was on the screen, it was that he was so responsive, so needy. James pushed his second finger inside.

Dirk lifted his hips again and then dropped them, trying to fuck himself on James’s fingers faster than James was giving it to him. He was panting hard even though he hadn’t done anything, and was inches away from begging. James was moving his fingers so steadily in and out of him it was driving him insane. 

When James pulled his fingers out, Dirk whined shamelessly into his hand until he heard the shifting of fabric and turned slightly to look behind him and see that James was finally taking his own underwear off. 

‘James, please,’ Dirk said.

James picked up a condom and checked the date out of deep-ingrained habit before looking up again. 

‘Yes?’ He took in the desperation on Dirk’s face, the tension deep in the muscles of his lean back and realised that he’d done the equivalent of over winding a wind-up toy. He could definitely keep him still, take him past that tension until he let go, but alternatively …

‘I want you on top,’ James said, ripping open the condom and focusing on rolling it on as Dirk jumped into movement.

Dirk kicked off his underwear and moved until he was on his knees in front of James. He paused to kiss him deeply before his impatience seized him again and he took it upon himself to lube up James’s cock. 

James moved onto his back, slowly so that he wouldn’t stop Dirk from stroking him, and pulled Dirk with him until he was straddling his legs. Dirk was filled with restless anticipation, that need to make everything happen as fast as possible, but that was part of the fun. He inched his way forward as he stroked James, focusing on the feel of him in his hand to keep his stupid hindbrain from rushing through it.

Dirk bent down to kiss James again as he got into position. James’s hands rested on Dirk’s thighs as he kneeled up straight and then started to sink down onto his dick. Dirk groaned lowly as James’s cock filled him up, and his legs trembled with the effort of keeping himself from going as hard and fast as he could straight away. As good as it would feel in the moment, he wanted to be able to walk the next day. 

It was harder to remember that as he got into a rhythm. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he moved, feeling the way sensation was driving up and into him. It was like a dance, but every step was electric pleasure right through him. His hands fell back onto James’s thighs as he continued to thrust his hips up and down and he knew he was holding on too tight but he couldn’t find it in him to relax his grip at all. 

James watched with rapt eyes as Dirk rocked himself closer to orgasm. He looked almost angelic, caught in rapturous pleasure with his blond, tangled curls sticking to his neck and mouth parted to let the almost continuous wordless cries out. James felt powerless to do anything but watch for what felt like a tiny, private eternity, he was too beautiful and to even lift his hips to meet him might have thrown off the absolutely perfect things that Dirk was doing to James’s cock. 

It almost took him by surprise when he felt the need to come building in him. It snuck up on him and then overwhelmed him, and he feared he was about to be in the very ungentlemanly position of leaving Dirk unsatisfied, so he took Dirk’s cock in hand and pumped it, too far gone to know whether he was matching Dirk’s movements or not. 

James still came first, grunting as his fist tightened around Dirk unconsciously. Dirk chased his own release, fucking James’s hand and rocking against his cock because James was too affected to keep up with him.

He came with a hitching breath and shuddery exhalation, quiet compared to how he’d been earlier, and he rested on his knees as he watched his cock spurt onto James’s chest and caught his breath.

Dirk gracelessly fell onto the bed next to James once his thoughts were composed enough to realise his limbs didn’t want to hold him up anymore. James cupped his cheek affectionately and pressed a small kiss to his mouth. They smiled at each other, and James found himself falling in love with the way Dirk smiled when he wasn’t thinking about it. With Dirk as a whole as well.

*

James joined Dirk in his bed that night, after they’d seen their boys party-giddy but probably not drunk to bed. Dirk had been thinking about seeking James out himself, but hadn’t wanted to impose. When James climbed into bed behind him and wrapped his arm around his waist, Dirk almost felt like he’d been missing the weight of it without knowing all along. 

They fell asleep with the lines of their bodies pressed entirely against each other, clothed but intimate. It became an easy and essential ritual, and Dirk found himself aching whenever he thought about the tickets safe in his bag, wildly considering just not boarding the plane and fucking up every part of his life just to stay with James.

*

The night before their last day, Bro followed John and Dave up to John’s bedroom and leaned on Dave tragically. He didn’t take any of his weight off him even as Dave struggled to hold him upright and then eventually fell to his knees and dumped him on the floor.

‘Oh my God, you’re such a loser,’ Dave said.

Bro groaned into the carpet. Dave was so mean to him in his time of tragedy. 

‘Is this ‘cause you’re leaving tomorrow?’ John asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

Bro nodded without lifting his head.

‘We need ice cream,’ John said seriously. ‘Try and get him upright?’

Bro heard footsteps as John left in search of ice cream and rolled onto his back. 

‘Shit’s fucked, Dave,’ he said. 

Dave slumped on the floor next to him and sighed.

‘Yup.’

‘We can’t stay here,’ Bro said.

‘I know that.’

‘Your school’s in Houston. My jobs. Roxy’d shoot me in the balls, give me a lecture, then shoot me in the face.’

‘Yup.’

‘It’s not _fair_.’

‘Nope.’

Bro turned his head to glare at Dave for not magically fixing everything. There were tears in Dave’s eyes, Bro could see behind his shades from this angle, and that broke his heart worse than anything he was going through. He sat up and grabbed Dave’s arm, pulling him into an awkward seated hug. 

‘I’m sorry, dude, this sucks so much.’

Dave didn’t reply, he just pressed his face into Bro’s shoulder. His shades were definitely digging into his nose, but what was that discomfort compared to leaving his best friend?

‘When could we even come back?’ Dave asked, his voice thick. 

Bro’s heart dropped even worse and he swallowed uncomfortably. 

‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘Fuck, I can’t—’ Bro stopped himself before he complained about not being able to resort to sex work again. He couldn’t, though. Maybe other people could after they found something like this, but he wasn’t one of them. Still just a stupid kid, falling way too hard and fuck the consequences.

He was saved having to think of something else to say by the sound of footsteps. Dave pulled back and wiped at his face quickly and Bro had to stare very hard at the wall not to let that set him off properly. 

John wasn’t alone. He and Mr Egbert had six different tubs of icecream and four spoons, and the two of them joined the Striders on the floor without trying to get them to go somewhere else.

‘This _sucks_ ,’ John said, claiming the strawberry tub and leaning against Dave. 

Dave picked up a spoon and got into John’s ice cream before he did. 

‘Yes,’ agreed Mr Egbert. 

‘My school is pretty good,’ John said petulantly. ‘You know, just in case you didn’t know that.’

‘It’s not the best time to buy here right now, but the rental market is good,’ Mr Egbert said, offering his chocolate ice cream to Bro. 

‘It’s not a billion-billion degrees,’ Dave said.

‘You’re here,’ Dirk said, looking at James.

A moment later he had to drop his eyes to the floor. James took his hand and squeezed it.

‘Do you really have to go,’ James asked quietly.

Dirk looked back up at James and opened his mouth before closing it again. It was too hard to say that he did. 

‘School, work, Roxy mutilating Bro,’ Dave listed monotonously. 

‘John’s school _is_ good,’ James said.

‘Dad could get you a job, right Dad?’

‘We’ll hire you a bodyguard to protect you from your best friend.’

‘James,’ Dirk begged. ‘It’s hard enough.’

Dave kicked Bro’s leg. Bro kicked back automatically, but looked at him anyway. 

‘ _Please_ ,’ Dave said.

Bro stared at Dave for almost a full minute without speaking. Thanks in great part to Dave’s inability to ask for things he didn’t think were possible, Bro had never actually had to say no to something Dave had _really_ wanted. He’d worked his ass off, bought second hand and moved whatever needed moving for his brother and he’d do it a million times over.

‘I must be crazy,’ Bro said quietly.

‘What?’ John demanded.

‘I’m fucking crazy,’ Bro said, disbelieving himself entirely. 

‘Really?’ James asked, his voice cracking. 

‘I need my laptop.’

Dave nearly tripped over twice in his hurry to get whatever Bro needed to make this happen.

*

timaeusTestified [TT] has begun pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: Roxy, love of my life, woman of my dreams, my goddess, my inspiration, my reason for living.  
TG: are you in prison????  
TT: No. I just need an incredibly big favour.  
TG: shouldnt you be balls deep in anxiety medication rn?  
TG: dirk whats going on, im worried  
TT: I didn’t get on the plane.


	6. Bonus Birthday Chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 months after moving to Washington, the Striders discover why John said it wasn't necessary for them to come over for his birthday.

‘No really, what did you get him?’ Dave asked for the millionth time. 

‘A book,’ Bro answered, also for the millionth time. 

‘See, that just doesn’t ring true. I know how you do presents, that’s not you and also I know that you’re an idiot who just _has_ to be building up this whole new kid situation even though it’s only been a few months—’

‘Four and a half months.’

‘—and so you gotta be going above and beyond with this shit, right? Like, you’ve got him a really unsafe number of fireworks so he’ll like you more and Dadbert’s gonna evict us for endangering his kid and I have _just_ made the moves on Skate Park Chick so it would be really lame if we had to move again.’

‘Nice name, you gonna hyphenate?’

‘Oh God, don’t you dare take his name if you guys get hitched, I will never take you seriously if your name is Dirk Egbert.’

Bro transferred the book he was holding (it really was just a book, though he had absolutely freaked the fuck out about what to get him before he landed on it) to his other hand so that he could hit Dave over the back of his head.

‘I’m not fucking this up,’ Bro said. ‘I’ve barely fucked up at all in this, I’m the best boyfriend ever.’

Dave made a skeptical noise, but he was smirking. Bro wasn’t wrong, after all. Despite the absolute mayhem of making the move to Washington and the fact that Bro’s strategies for dealing with any kind of relationship conflict were either to go for a run or obsessively watch rom-coms on the off chance Hugh Grant knew what to do, he had only woken Dave up to bolt back to Houston or maybe Sydney in the middle of the night three times, and each time it had been really easy for Dave to convince him to stop fucking panicking and go the fuck back to bed.

They rounded the corner and Bro’s feet sped up unconsciously as the Egbert house came into sight. John tended to drive when he came over to visit Dave, mostly because it was a novelty that he had somewhere to drive to, but they were definitely in walking distance. 

‘Do you think Dadbert will have made cake?’ Dave asked.

Bro groaned just from the thought of Egbert cake. 

‘God I hope so.’

They knocked on the door despite being told every time they came around that they should use one of their keys (they both still owned them even after moving into their own place two weeks after they spontaneously decided to move their entire lives halfway across the country) and they hissed cake flavour guesses at each other while they waited.

John answered the door with an embarrassed kind of smile, almost as if he thought they were going to make a big fuss over him. Dave had warned Bro that he wasn’t that crazy about his birthday, so he knew to play it cool.

‘Haitch-bee,’ Bro said, holding his fist out. 

‘Hizzle bizz-dizzle,’ Dave agreed. 

‘You guys are lame,’ John said, but he gave them both bumps and his smile looked a bit more genuine. He leaned back and looked in the direction of the kitchen and grimaced. ‘You wanna hide out in my room with me?’

‘What’re you hiding from?’ Dave asked.

‘Dad goes nuts on my birthday,’ John said. ‘Seriously, I told you to just come tomorrow.’

Bro and Dave glanced at each other. 

‘Uh, okay,’ Bro said.

‘Don’t you want to deal with the nutso?’ Dave asked.

Bro hesitated, knowing that there was no way he could get out of being an adult and hating that he couldn’t just hide in John’s room and play video games. He’d learned that John was an astonishingly reliable barometer for his dad’s moods. Not that he really had _bad_ moods, but he did have times he preferred to be alone, and there was no shaking him out of that before he was ready.

‘Yeah,’ Bro sighed.

‘’Cause you love him,’ Dave said as John tugged him out of the entry, shushing him. 

‘Yeah,’ Bro grumbled. That was how he got stuck with a lot of unpleasant tasks these days. The novelty of being able to send his dad’s boyfriend out for gummy worms hadn’t worn off for John yet.

The boys disappeared upstairs and Bro slouched into the kitchen. He didn’t know what to expect, maybe the kind of wrung out parent that was somewhat typical on their kid’s birthday when they just wanted everything to be perfect. But …

‘Dirk!’ James said, sounding absolutely delighted to see him. He crossed the kitchen and took Dirk’s cheeks in his hands to keep him still as he planted a kiss on his mouth.

‘Hey,’ Dirk said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be … Oh my _God_ , why are there so many cakes?’

There was practically more cake than kitchen, most of them iced as well, and as Dirk took in the scene, a timer went off and James released him to give his attention to the oven instead. 

‘There’s no _room_ , James,’ Dirk protested.

‘There’s always room,’ James said. ‘Here, you take this one up to John, and I assume Dave, then we have room!’ 

Dirk accepted the cake because it was that or drop it and then he watched until James had taken the new cake out of the oven before he decided to just go with it. He took the cake upstairs and knocked on John’s door.

Two voices inside immediately went silent. 

‘It’s Bro,’ he said. 

The door opened and John pulled him inside with the kind of urgency that might have been more appropriate if he had been legitimately concerned about the risk of zombies. 

‘Oh no, you traitor,’ Dave deadpanned from his position cross legged on the floor. It looked like he had taken it upon himself to eat an entire cake to himself. Bro looked around the room. It was one of four, not including the one in his hand. What the actual fuck.

‘What the fuck?’ Bro said.

‘I _told_ you he was nuts,’ John said.

‘Coulda told us that before we got entrenched in this bitch,’ Dave said. ‘Though if this is how I go, it’s how I go.’

‘Stop eating it!’ John said. ‘I told you I don’t eat them!’

‘What, are you expecting the message that this is all a massive waste to be too subtle to catch if I eat a couple of these?’

‘Dude, don’t eat two full cakes,’ Bro said. ‘I will _not_ be rubbing your belly if you make yourself sick, I will be putting on my noise cancelling headphones and leaving you to get intimate with toilet.’

Dave kept staring at Bro as he put another way too big handful of cake in his mouth. 

‘Right, well, I’m also not cleaning it up if he chunders in your room,’ Bro said. ‘Dude, what is with this?’

John flopped on his bed with utter unconcern for his limbs bouncing all over the place. 

‘It’s just weird,’ John said. 

‘Have you asked him?’ Dave asked.

‘Uhh, yeah, Dave,’ John said, sarcasm turned as high as it went. ‘I just _ask_ my Dad why he literally attempts to give me diabetes every single year. That’s my idea of fun, talking through my whack-job Dad’s broken logic. No. I sit in my room and make myself a sandwich when he leaves to get more cake mix.’

‘I can’t believe he doesn’t make it from scratch,’ Bro said, looking judgmentally at the cake he was still holding as if he’d ever successfully prepared a meal.

‘I’m not talking about cake with you!’ John said. ‘I know why and I don’t care and it’s fine, anyway! I’m just going to hide up here until tomorrow happens.’

Bro looked around the room for a place to deposit the cake and eventually decided on top of John’s PC tower. John made a displeased noise, but Bro was the one who had to go back downstairs and figure out why his dad was cookoo-banana-nuts. 

James was icing a cake when Dirk came back into the kitchen. 

‘Would you like a slice of cake?’ James asked. ‘I don’t think John will mind if we have some. I can make more if he does.’

Well this put Dirk in a bit of a position, because he fucking loved James’s cakes, but this whole thing was absolutely insane and he probably shouldn’t encourage it.

‘Can you step away from the kitchen for a bit, James?’ Dirk asked.

James patted his hands to his apron as he looked around. His eyes paused on the kitchen timer and on a cake that was still icing-free and for some reason on the fridge, where there was a picture of his family in a magnetic fridge frame. Dirk couldn’t see what that had to do with any of the rest of what was going on, but he filed it away for later. Maybe James just liked the picture.

Dirk lead James into his study and closed the door. He didn’t think the boys would be coming downstairs any time soon, but he also wasn’t about having emotional conversations while there was any risk of them being interrupted. James hesitated when Dirk made for their armchairs.

‘I can’t be out of the kitchen long,’ he said.

‘Just sit for a minute,’ Dirk insisted.

James did.

Dirk realised he had no idea how to start a conversation about feelings. James didn’t look like he was going to be volunteering explanations any time soon. 

‘Um,’ he said. ‘You made a lot of cakes.’

James nodded slowly, as if waiting for Dirk to elaborate on that thought. Really, that was as far as Dirk had gotten. It made for an awkward pause.

‘I actually do have a bit of time now before the next one finishes,’ James said, when Dirk failed to make anything else come out of his mouth. ‘And I would very much like to spend the time with you, but I’m out of cake mix. I need to quickly pop to the store. The timer shouldn’t go off while I’m gone, but if it does, even you can take a cake out of an oven.’

Dirk thought he might possibly be offended by that. 

‘Is it a prank?’ Dirk asked. That might make sense. As far as he could tell, pranks weren’t really intended to surprise or entertain in the Egbert house. More to elicit a resigned groan. 

‘It’s his birthday,’ James said, frowning. How could Dirk not understand that? ‘A boy needs cake on his birthday.’

‘Yeah, one cake,’ Dirk said. ‘This is not a typical amount of cake!’

James was starting to tire of this conversation. Dirk was behaving very strangely, hiding him away in his office to interrogate him about his baking choices. 

‘Oh, this isn’t really about me,’ James realised. Dirk looked confused, but James was onto him. ‘You wanted some privacy.’

‘What? No—’

‘Dirk, it’s fine. It’s been, what is it? A week, perhaps? And you’re young and full of _vitality_ , I understand.’

‘I can keep it in my pants, James, I’m concer—’

James took Dirk’s hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Dirk didn’t resist being cut off, he was plenty okay with kissing his boyfriend, but James kept him close with a firm hand on the back of his neck when he tried to continue the conversation.

It wasn’t as if Dirk had never used sex as a stalling tactic before, he just really hadn’t been expecting it from James. Which might have been naive of him. James wasn’t _perfect_ , he could be pretty avoidant at times and he had a way of framing things so that the thing he wanted most was the most sensible option almost every time. 

He was also really easy to distract with sex when Dirk wanted to avoid talking about something, so it kinda made sense he thought Dirk would be the same. Luckily for Dirk, it wasn't a particularly long-term plan. He probably should've put a stop to it, but he was curious as to how far James would take it and he really wasn't opposed to this form of not talking.

Still.

‘James,’ Dirk said, trying to emulate the tone of disapproval that James pulled off so much better than he did.

‘I want you on your knees,’ James said, stroking his thumb over Dirk’s cheekbone. ‘Would you do that for me?’

Dirk decided that healthy communication just wasn’t as fun as sucking dick, and got down on his knees. 

James stroked Dirk’s hair out of his face and took his shades off for safe keeping while Dirk undid James’s pants. Dirk looked so focused. He always did before he lost control, like being intimate was the most serious thing in the world. It was one of James’s favourite things about Dirk, and he had a lot of favourite things about Dirk. 

James lifted his hips to allow Dirk to slide his pants down and undid the bottom few buttons on his shirt before pulling the edges to the sides. Dirk stroked up James’s bare leg and looked up at James before taking his cock in hand and dropping his mouth to it.

Dirk licked James with confident sweeps of his tongue. He loved the feel of James hardening in his hand, loved the way he shifted slightly in his seat and the way it felt to be on his knees for him. He took him into his mouth and sucked gently at the head. 

James leaned his head back against the armchair so appreciate the magic that was Dirk's mouth. This was a much better use for it than pointless questioning about nothing. Nor that he was doing this to keep Dirk quiet, but it certainly was more comfortable this way.

‘Yes, Dirk,’ James sighed. ‘Very good.’

Dick moaned around James's cock and took him significantly deeper into his mouth. He had a weakness for James's praise, something James was very aware of and took frequent advantage of. Calling Dirk's efforts ‘good’ almost guaranteed that he somehow improved further. Continuous praise drove him straight past the limits of his control.

Which seemed quite appealing to James at that moment.

He made a low noise and shifted closer to Dirk. Dirk didn't draw back to adjust at all, allowing the movement to drive James's cock almost fully into his mouth and throat and then making up the last of the difference himself. He pulled back to breathe for a beat before resuming what had become a deep-throat a lot faster than Dirk with his penchant for extended foreplay usually would initiate.

‘You're so good for me,’ James told Dirk, prompting another moan from Dirk. ‘A little slower, that's a good boy.’

Dirk whined. It took effort to slow down when his automatic response to dealing with arousal was to go harder and faster. Slowing meant that he was conscious of every fraction of an inch stretching his mouth and throat. It was an absolutely erotic sensation and Dirk tried to take him deeper to compensate for the way he wasn’t allowed to go fast.

‘ _Fffff_ ,’ James stuttered.

Dirk pulled off and grinned up at James.

‘Did you nearly _cuss_ , James?’ he asked, voice already rasping up/

‘Dirk, I—’

Dirk took him deep into his throat again and James actually did swear, and pretty impressively too. Dirk wasn’t sure why that turned him on so much. It was fucking nice to know that James let go for him.

 _‘—untnoodles!’_ James finished. Such a creative man.

Dirk swallowed around him and shifted into a more steady rhythm. He knew what James liked and he knew he could keep him on the edge, swearing more and squirming underneath him. But he might not actually want to drag this one out. 

When Dirk put his mind to it, he could finish a guy off pretty quickly. He fucked James’s cock into his throat, every thrust making it easier to take him in and therefore turning him on more. It was going to be fucking hard to go wanting after this, but he didn’t hate the anticipation it would leave humming under his skin until he could get James into a bed.

James’s fingers tightened almost painfully in Dirk’s hair and Dirk felt him get impossibly harder against his tongue. James’s hips moved almost without his permission and suddenly Dirk didn’t have to do anything at all but keep still and let himself be used.

James came with a low grunt, buried deep in Dirk’s throat. It wasn’t until then that he realised how tight he’d been holding onto him, or that he’d taken over entirely. He eased back into his chair and watched as Dirk caught his breath and the pinkness on his face and neck went down. 

‘So, I’m not distracted,’ Dirk said, sitting back on the carpet. He _wasn’t_ distracted, though he was feeling pretty damn relaxed despite the undealt with boner. He was breathing through it. 

‘From what?’ James asked.

‘James, it doesn’t work that way, we’re a _thing_ now, I know you.’

‘I really do need to go get more cake mix,’ James said, looking to the door.

‘James for fuck’s sake!’

James finally turned to Dirk again so he could give him a disapproving look. 

‘Dirk.’

‘No! I don’t give a shit about my language, we’re past that!’ 

James was looking like he wanted to escape, so Dirk lurched to his feet and planted his hands near James’s shoulders, forcing him to pay attention.

‘I’m not just your _pet_ , it doesn’t work like this. If you wanted this to just be sex and you buying me shit and looking after me or whatever, you should have kept your damn thoughts to yourself from the beginning, then I wouldn’t know anything was wrong. But I _know_ you, James, I know you and I know when you’re avoiding shit and I’m not letting you get away with it.’

James stared at Dirk as if he was having some kind of temper tantrum. He really was making some kind of fuss over nothing at all. It wasn’t like Dirk, and it didn’t suit him. 

‘I’m not avoiding my son’s birthday.’

‘Really? ‘Cause he is!’

James moved to try and get up, but he was sitting in an armchair and Dirk was in a much more stable position. He’d have to actually try and throw Dirk off to get out, something that he might be capable of doing (Dirk was well aware how strong James was), but that would be too big an indication of his mood. 

They held eye contact for a while, Dirk defiant as hell and not ready to be talked down, and James still valiantly pretending that Dirk didn’t know what he was talking about. 

Oh,’ James said. ‘Oh, no, I was … ungentlemanly.’

The sudden shift in topic threw Dirk completely. 

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I wasn’t as gentle with you as you deserve,’ James said. He reached up to stroke Dirk’s cheek in that way he did that made Dirk feel some kind of precious.

‘It’s fine. Better than fine, actually, it felt pretty damn awesome. Feel free to turn that kind of intensity on any time you—’

James wrapped his arms around Dirk’s waist and Dirk awkwardly managed to half kneel on his lap. James just wanted him close, he didn’t care that Dirk’s knee was digging into his thigh or that the chair wasn’t made for two, he held on with all he had. 

Dirk stroked James’s hair back tentatively. His mood had changed so quickly that it was almost alarming. He didn’t really know what to do with it.

‘I’m okay,’ Dirk said gently. ‘You’re okay. We’re good, James, you didn’t do anything, uh, _impolite_ or anything, I like … that.’

James didn’t say anything, he just pressed his face into Dirk’s chest. Dirk managed to keep himself from apologising for his lack of comforting bosom, somehow sensing that that particular ramble wouldn’t go anywhere useful before he started it.

There had to be something about this day, maybe even just regular _oh God, my kid’s aged another year_. Dirk could relate to that, but maybe it was something more, too. He wished he had just a bit of James’s grace to be able to ask sensitive questions. 

‘What happened on John’s birthday?’ Dirk asked.

James pulled his face back and looked up at Dirk with a tortured expression. Dirk wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to share whatever it was that hurt him this much, but he wanted to know what it was more. 

‘My mother died,’ James said, finally. 

Dirk had _not_ expected that. 

He knew James had been close to his mom, had seen the way he still looked like he was grieving when she came up even though she’d died years ago. He didn’t really know how to relate to that. 

He didn’t know how he would feel when his mom died, didn’t know if he’d even hear about it, but he couldn’t imagine holding onto it quite this way. He’d _had_ to move on from his family, had to leave that shit in the past. He didn’t know if he was _over_ it, but he at least was able to watch movies where dads told their kids they were proud of them without throwing shit now. Being able to have a better relationship with Dave helped.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

James waved Dirk’s awkward sympathy away. 

‘It was a long time ago. It’s just hard to think about. And it’s impossible not to think about. I try to keep myself busy.’

‘What’s with the cakes?’ Dirk asked.

Now that he’d started talking, James wasn’t quite sure how to stop. Dirk was heavy on his lap, and part of him almost felt panicked, but Dirk was looking at him with such sincerity that James couldn’t bring himself to imagine he didn’t honestly want to know what was going on. He focused on that feeling instead, and on the way he truly had fallen for every last gangly bit of Dirk. His breathing came a bit easier.

‘She taught me how to cook. She taught me a great many things. I always think I’ll just make the one, leave it at that. But it feels important to be close to her.’

‘Babe, you gotta tell John this.’

‘He doesn’t need to associate his birthday with my loss. Our loss. He was too young to remember things like dates, though I think he remembers her …’ James sighed and dragged his hand over his face before replacing it on Dirk’s hip. ‘I hope he does.’

Dirk leaned in and kissed James’s forehead, then his mouth when James tilted his chin up to meet him. 

‘You gotta tell John,’ Dirk repeated. ‘He’s developing some kind of complex, like he doesn’t know if you’re trolling him. Invite him into the ritual, let him make the cakes with you. Show him why it’s important.’

‘John hasn’t made cakes with me for years,’ James said uncertainly.

‘Teenagers kinda need to have a reason to spend time with us oldies. It’s gotta be better than this.’

James smiled, the way he always did when Dirk called himself old. Dirk kissed the laugh lines by his eye. 

‘I love you,’ Dirk said quietly. ‘Every last crazy bit of you.’

James laughed under his breath and pushed Dirk gently out of his lap so he could get up.

‘You just made me talk about my feelings,’ he observed. ‘There’s a change of pace.’

‘I’ll have you know that I’m very emotionally intelligent,’ Dirk said. ‘I could win medals for my availability and charm.’

James looked down to where he’d automatically wrapped his hand around Dirk’s. He didn’t remotely want to do what he needed to do, but knowing that Dirk was there to keep him accountable and to hide away with after made an enormous difference. 

They walked up the stairs together, ready to demystify what really was a day like any other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) 413!


End file.
